


Fragile Roots of a Tree

by UltimateDespairs



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: AU, Actually I'm not sure whether to classify this as AU or canon divergance, I dunno what the kids are doing these days, M/M, Other characters will appear eventually i promise, POV Alternating, Radiant Dawn Spoilers, hope this is enjoyable regardless, is there something else like this that exists i honestly have no clue oops, or what to classify things as, this is really self indulgant and I change a lot from canon/reach quite a bit, which is why I lean more towards the AU tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateDespairs/pseuds/UltimateDespairs
Summary: The Prince of Daein, Soren, is a cold, pragmatic tactician who's heart is said to be made of ice and snow. Ike is a for-hire mercenary who's all fire, passion, and drive, fighting for what he believes is right rather then for survival. Logically, they should have always been enemies. Logically, they should never have met if not on a battlefield. But fate has a cruel kindness in crossing and breaking and rebinding the strings of destiny that connect these two, two children forced to become adults far too fast, and lost different parts of themselves along the way.





	1. A Cruel Kindness of Fate

The cell was dark, moldy, and cold. Ike shivered, holding the remnants of his slashed through cape together as best he could, coughing.  
  
_...So...this is it…_  
  
The Knight had bested him - of course he had. But Goddess avow him, it was the only way…  
  
He could still hear Mist’s cries as the boat drifted away to safety, while the Knight knocked him down like a doll. It didn’t matter. Ike’s face flashed, briefly, with a grin, and then the Knight realized his trap.  


 “...Using yourself as bait. How like your father, Ike.” The knight’s tone was distasteful and obviously irritated. Ike found satisfaction in that that he couldn’t find in revenge, at least for the moment.  
  
  
Ike had been sure he would die, that the same blade that ended his father would cut his skull open like an egg - but instead, the hilt of it slammed against the back of his skull, and then - darkness.

   
Darkness wasn’t death, though. He knew that now as he felt the cold, rubbing his hands inside the cell. He’d called to the guard to ask where he was, but was given no response.

 _  
...Why didn’t he kill me? It makes no sense…_  
  
  
Ike didn’t have his blade. He wasn’t restrained by anything but the bars, but they were enough.

   
_...Am I to be tortured for information regarding Elincia…?_  
  
He swallowed - that was the only option he could think of. How despicable his father’s killer was…  
  
_Mist is safe. The company is safe. Titania - she’ll know what to do. She’ll be able to…  
  
_ That was all that mattered. And he wouldn’t crack, not under Daein’s tortures. Not under his father’s killer.  
  
It was a few hours before he heard the clinking of heavy armour he had memorized along with the sound of rain and choked breath. Ike jolted up from his thoughts, glaring at the Knight.  
  
“...The prince wishes to see you.” The figure said smoothly, voice betraying nothing. Ike’s eyes went slightly wide.  
  
“...The prince?”  
  
Ike swallowed nervously yet again. The prince was here…? Where was he? The capitol? How far had the knight taken him just for torture…?  
  
“...I suggest you do not resist, Ike. You will be at his feet whether you will it or not."  
  
Ike glared, fiercely, and of course, the Knight had to drag him, gauntlets digging into his skin, metal chafing and cutting. Ike bit his tongue so he wouldn’t curse.  
  
_I won’t give him the satisfaction.  
  
_ The Knight knocked on a door, before opening it, pushing Ike inside. Ike cursed as he stumbled from hours in the cold cells, barely managing to catch himself before looking up.  
  
Cold crimson eyes met his gaze. Imbued with the chill of the Daein north. Unforgiving. Merciless. Unyielding and almost inhuman. Ike swallowed.  
  
_Prince Soren, of Daein. The Mad King’s only child...and the genius tactician we’ve been fighting this whole time.  
  
_ He had to admit, except for his eyes, it was a thoroughly underwhelming sight. The Prince almost looked like a child. _This_ was Daein’s top tactician? This was the boy that had been undermining all their plans and forcing them to retreat, forcing them to take unorthodox strategies when they couldn’t?  
  
_He’s younger than I am._  
  
The thought was insulting. Ike glared with all the energy he could muster, but didn’t speak a word. The boy tilted his head.  
  
“...So this is the son of General Gawain, the traitor.” Soren mused, shutting the book he was reading and rising from his seat. “...You are certain of this, General?”  
  
_Gawain…?_  
  
“I saw him myself when I slew Gawain, my prince.” The Knight’s voice was just a touch softer - Ike could barely even tell, through all that armour. “He is his son, I am certain.”  
  
Soren was quiet, meeting those blue eyes. “...Do you know of your father’s true identity, Ike?”  
  
Ike didn’t wonder why Soren knew his name. He must have heard in the reports. He glared, scoffing.  
  
“My father was a mercenary leader.” He said vehemently. “Your general is mistaken. Perhaps you should look for new hires.”  
  
Soren raised an eyebrow, looking at him so intently Ike was worried he’d have holes in his skin after. Is he trying to see if I resemble my father…? No, he can’t have ever met him…  
  
What was going on, then? All he could do was listen, even though he didn’t want to.  
  
“...Your father was one of King Ashnard’s top military generals.” Soren said purposefully, finally tearing his eyes away from Ike’s face. “He betrayed him before you were born, and left under a different name.”  
  
Ike felt ill. His father…  
  
“That’s a lie.” He said, immediately. “That’s not...true. I won’t believe it.”  
  
Soren huffed, looking strangely disappointed. “If you need proof, ask the King himself. That is where I plan to take you next.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Ike paled - the King? Why? Why would a prince want to take him to meet a king? Why wasn’t he being killed or tortured on the spot? It didn’t...make any sense…  
  
_I don’t...understand. What do they want with me?_  
  
The prince especially, seemed to want something with him. He kept looking at him, briefly, like a child might when they tug at their mother’s skirts to ask a favor. Why?  
  
_...Someone like me can’t be expected to understand, but...it can’t be good.  
  
_ Soren sighed softly, eyes falling.  
  
“...General. Take him back to the cells...but have him see a healer first. Then return. We must make preparations to return to the capitol.”  
  
“As you will it, Prince Soren.”  
  
Without another word, Soren turned, and the Black Knight grabbed his wrist again. Ike scowled, looking at the prince’s back - but he didn’t turn, and only tapped the window softly, before pressing his forehead against it.

  
Ike didn’t understand any of this. But he understood that whatever the Daein Prince wanted with him...it could never be good.

 

\--

 

Soren hadn’t always been a prince.  
  
Oh, by blood, of course, he had always been. That wasn’t a _fact_ that could simply be altered. He was the son of the Princess of Goldoa and King of Daein by birth.  
  
But he hadn’t always been a prince.  
  
He’d been tossed aside, roughly, soon after he was born. He’d been taken care of by a time by some woman who didn’t really care - in retrospect, that was even more obvious than it had been at the time. Always throwing words and cruel phrases at him.  
  
_Obvious._  
_  
_ And then he had been sold. For his magical capabilities, to some poor sage who didn’t realize what his mark really meant, and had taken him in just to feed him knowledge, like some book he was filling up with references for someone else to look at and know the sage had existed. Not for Soren himself.  That much had always been so blatantly obvious.  
  
And then he’d had to leave - once the sage died and there was no food left. He’d left, and been alone. Starving. Ignored by anyone he pleaded for help. Beaten by others. Hunted for sport by subhumans. No one was kind. No one was selfless. Soren had learned those lessons harshly as a child.  
  
_There was no kindness in the world except -  
  
_ “Ah…! Are you okay?”  
  
Soren had been sleeping in the roots of a tree, hair tangled just a little in the branches. He hadn’t eaten in days. His skin was bone tight across his skin, so pale and frail looking, he might have already been dead.  
  
It wouldn’t have surprised him.  
  
“H-hey...say something…”  
  
The boy’s voice was fearful. The boy. A voice. _Cruelty._ Instinct shot inside Soren, giving him energy he didn’t know he had left. He sat up sharply, whining softly and shirking away from the blue haired boy like some wounded animal.  
  
“...Ah...you’re alive…” The boy’s eyes trailed over him, taking in his sickly pale skin, his bones poking out from under too thin flesh, his eyes sunken inside his skull leaving deep holes under them that made them look like they could fall out. “...Um...you look really...hurt…”  
  
There were whip marks against his shins. Scars over his stomach, swollen from malnourishment and over his arms. Defensive wounds. Soren shuddered.  
  
“...Y-You really need to eat…” The boy pulled something from his pack, Soren squeezing his eyes shut, but then the smell of food flooded his senses, and his eyes couldn’t help but open to see if he was only dreaming.  
  
_Oh…  
  
_ Bread. Cheese. Rice. Meat, even. And a flask of water. Soren’s stomach cried out, as if there were claws inside of it that were trying to rip it open to get the food in there faster. It hurt so badly, tears prickled his eyes.  
  
“Here. Take it! You definitely need it more then me.”  
  
Soren whined, pitifully, like some hit dog. This was so cruel. Was it poison? It must be...no one was this kind. No one.  
  
_...It might be okay to die with a mouthful of meat...I haven’t had meat in so long…  
  
_ His eyes darted to the boy’s face, before his bony fingers darted forward, taking the bread first. He made a soft pleased noise when the taste flooded his mouth.  
  
_Oh, goddess…  
  
_ “Aha, if you like the bread that much, you’ll really like the meat! Go on!” The boy gave a carefree grin, and Soren nodded without thinking, his rational thoughts of _poison cruelty run run run -_ replaced by a mantra that wasn’t even a word so much as a feral desire to eat - to live. He devoured the meat, some grease sticking to his fingers, and he sucked that off too. It was so good he wanted to cry. And there was even more food...cheese, rice…  
  
Swallowing the last of the meat down, he started on the cheese and rice, stomach finally settling, the clawing pains of hunger dissipating. Before he could blink, the boy had shoved the flask in his hand.  
  
“You probably need to drink, too, right? Go ahead.”  
  
Soren did so, drinking the entire flask in one go. Rather then feeling needy after, he felt so very satisfied - he rarely got one of those types of foods, and now he’d had so many at once…  
  
“Aha, that’s it…” The boy nodded, taking it back. “There we go. You feeling any better?” He grinned. “My name’s Ike. My dad’s a mercenary, and I’m gonna be one too, one day. Who are you?”  
  
Soren hesitated. Then he decided, opening his mouth and cutting a line across his tongue with his finger. Ike tilted his head.  
  
“Oh! You can’t speak?”  
  
Soren shook his head.  
  
“...That’s okay...but you must seriously be in trouble. You look so sick…and um, dirty, sorry...Dad says I have to work on my manners, but…”  
  
Soren shook his head again. He knew he was dirty. He barely knew the concept of being clean. Clumps of dirt were stuck in his hair, and mud slicked up his feet all the way up to his ankles, both dried and still wet.  
  
“Why don’t you come home with me?” Ike suggested, but at that, Soren shrunk back.  
  
_I...I can’t…  
  
_ “...You really won’t?” Ike looked saddened. “My mom and dad will definitely help you out...they’re nice people!”  
  
Soren shook his head.  
  
Ike gave a frustrated huff. “Are you scared? I guess that’s okay...you’ve been hurt a lot, I can see that much. Um…” Ike seemed to fish around for an idea, before deciding upon one. “How about I come here tomorrow? I’ll bring you more food, promise!”  
  
At that, Soren wavered a little bit. It could still be a trap, but…  
  
Slowly, he nodded regardless. Ike seemed happy with that, and to Soren’s bewilderment, he stuck out a finger - his littlest one.  
  
“...Um, it’s a pinky promise.” Ike explained. “If we lock pinkies together, it’ll mean we have to keep our promise.”  
  
Soren had never heard of anything like that, but he reached forward and linked pinkies with the other anyway. It made the other laugh, and he found himself liking that sound.  
  
“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow! Promise!”  
  
Ike hesitated, then unclasped the cape at his shoulders, wrapping it around Soren, who again gave a slight jolt.  
  
“T’ keep you warm...be safe, okay?”  
  
Soren watched as he ran off, so bemused. The cape was warm. It smelt like Ike.  
  
He slept well that night, in the roots of the tree, with the cape as a blanket. But in the morning, Ike did not come. Soren waited, and waited, until the sun was nearly dipping in the sky.  
  
_...What if he’s hurt…?  
  
_ What if Ike was in trouble? Even if it was a trap, he’d given him the most precious thing there was - food. He couldn’t just ignore that and let him stay in danger. So Soren gathered his courage, stood up, shaking, and headed down through the forest on dirty feet caked with mud. He didn’t know where the nearest beorc town was, but he knew if he followed the trail set by their steps, he would find it.  
  
And find it he did.  
  
There was a clashing of metal, violent strikes of what he could tell to be swords. _Fighting…?_  
  
He shouldn’t get involved in fighting. He shouldn’t. He didn’t even know if this was Ike’s village…  
  
_But what if it was…?_  
  
With that thought propelling him like the fool he was, he trampled down the hill overlooking the village, nearly slipping on the wet grass. He steadied himself once he got to the bottom, looking from side to side before darting in, Ike’s too big cape still around his shoulders. To his surprise, only one man was really fighting, a tall man in yellow clothes that struck a sword down across anyone that crossed his path. What…?  
  
“Dad…! Dad, stop…!”  
  
A childish voice cried out - Ike. He’d already memorized his voice - as the man suddenly stabbed a woman with blue hair through the heart. A terrible scream cut through the air, that made Soren’s heart shudder with grief.

“Dad…! Mom…”  
  
Soren peeked out from behind the alleyway, only to see Ike - sitting near the fallen and bleeding shape of a woman, shaking her desperately. He noticed, unseen to Ike’s desperate eyes, the man slowly approaching him, and lifting his sword.  
  
_No…_  
  
Soren didn’t even think - he darted forward, in between Ike and the man - the shift in targets was enough to make it so the metal didn’t kill him - instead, it merely grazed his arm, making blood pour and gush out in rivers. He tensed, but held his ground.

 

_Ike._

 

Ike was looking up at him with horror, desperation overtaking his childish features completely. “Y-You…”  
  
Soren braced himself as he heard the man gear up for a second blow - but instead, it was met with the sharp ring of metal. Soren shuddered, then opened his eyes.  
  
“General…! Have you truly gone mad…?”  
  
A knight was there, clad in armour up to his neck, brandishing a blade that had brushed aside the man’s attack. Soren didn’t have time to be grateful - he wrapped his arms around Ike, tackling him to the ground off to the side, and wrapping him in that cloak. He had to protect him. He had to.  
  
He heard shouting - a second voice, and then the fighting seemed to still. Soren sat up slowly, unsure, and ready to run with Ike at the slightest provocation.  
  
“...Are you alright? Oh...you’re hurt.”  
  
The knight - he’d been talking to a mage, before, but as soon as he’d noticed Soren, he’d walked over - kneeled next to him, looking over his arm.  
  
“You poor thing. Let me - “ He wrapped up his arm quickly with bandages, before his eyes flickered to his face. To his brand. And then those eyes went wide, and Soren prepared himself.  
  
“...Sephiran…”  
  
The other man was talking with a young child that had come out, looking for her parents, but when the knight spoke, he hummed, stepping forward.  
  
“...Yes? What is it?” His gaze flickered to Soren. “...Ah...are you concerned because he is Branded…?”  
  
“No...I mean…”  
  
The man swallowed, shaking his head.  
  
“...Look at him, Sephiran. He looks just like King Ashnard’s consort, doesn’t he…?”  
  
The mage he’d called Sephiran took in his face and features, eyes going slightly wide with shock themselves.  
  
“...By the Goddess…”  
  
“...The king threw him out then, but...we can’t just leave him here…”  
  
Sephiran sighed. “...You are so soft, Zelgius.” He stared intently at Soren. “The streets may be a kinder fate then King Ashnard - “  
  
“Nowhere on the streets is a kind fate for a Branded.” The knight called Zelgius insisted. “If he is his son…”  
  
“He may just toss him aside again.”  
  
“Then nothing is gained or lost, is it?”  
  
Sephiran gave a long sigh.  
  
“...Take him back to Daein, if that is your wish.” He finally said. “...I suppose a prince could prove useful in the future…” He shook his head. “Make your choice. I have to deal with the boy and girl…Ike, was it? Come here…”  
  
Soren whined as Ike was led away, the man waving his staff in front of him - but he couldn’t do anything. He himself was lifted up by Zelgius, even as he squirmed and whined.  
  
“Shh...you will be safe soon, little prince. I swear it.”  
  
\--

Soren remembered it clear as day. The experience hadn’t been too traumatic for him, after all. He hadn’t needed to forget.  
  
_The way Ike did.  
  
_ He wanted to flare up with anger. He wanted to blow the windows in this room to pieces. He wanted to scream at what the fates had brought him.  
  
_I finally see Ike again, and he’s...he’s...he’s…  
  
_ “Soren.”  
  
He flinched at the familiar voice, Zelgius removing his helmet as he shut the door behind him. His green eyes flashed with sympathy.  
  
“...He doesn’t remember.” Soren said softly.  
  
Cold. Numb. Succinct.  
  
So like Soren.  
  
“...You knew that he would not, Soren.”  
  
Zelgius reached forward, touching his shoulder gently, but Soren wasn’t having it - he pulled back, looking at the floor.  
  
“...You’re right. I did know.”  
  
A few beats of silence played out between them.  
  
“...He despises me.” Soren finally broke it. “...He looked at me with such hatred. Such loathing. He...he…”  
  
_He was the first person to look at me with kindness, one of the few that ever did, and he…_

  
“...Do you think it would change anything...if he did remember…?”  
  
Zelgius stayed quiet for a few moments, overlooking Soren small frame and fragile composure.  
  
“...I could not say, my prince. That is not something I would know.”  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
Soren shuddered. What was he to do? He couldn’t just let Ike go - according to the reports, Ike’s group had already escaped, along with the princess they’d been searching for. And it was by sea - Ike had no way of reaching them and getting to safety, even with an escort.  
  
“...I’ll have to take him to my father...father will try and convert him to our side. He’ll give him a chance.”  
  
“...Ike will not take that chance.”  
  
“...Perhaps not. But...what other option is there…? Perhaps if Father truly decides on execution, we can smuggle him out, but...any other option I can foresee leads to his death. If I set him out with an escort, he will be caught by Gallian forces for being with Daein.  If I set him out alone, he will have no chance of survival. And even if I was able to bring him back...even if I could ride my beast and bring him to safety...he will only become a leader that my father will strike down. Better to make him an ally, so he may live, if I can.”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“...I will try my best...to get him and my father to understand. That is the best I can do for the boy that saved my life.”  
  
Zelgius didn’t protest He wasn’t in a position to. Zelgius had always been a soldier, and he did not defy orders from those he was loyal to.  
  
“...As my prince commands.”


	2. Through the Skies

Ike had been healed - that’d been a mistake on the prince’s part. He didn’t know what his plan was, but he knew it absolutely couldn’t be good. This was the prince that had helped raze Crimea, who’d formulated the tactics that had destroyed the capitol and forced Elincia to watch her parents die.  
  
_ Disgusting.  
  
_ No matter how young he was, that was a fact. No matter how and why he’d decided to show mercy on him and heal him, that was still fact. Ike tried breaking the bars of his cell with his newfound strength, but unfortunately, they didn’t even budge.  
  
_ Goddess damned…  
  
_ He sighed, and decided he would decide on an escape plan later, and he should probably conserve his strength for that.  
  
_ Escape where, though…? _ _  
_ _  
_ Where could he go? He might be able to sneak on a ship headed for Begnion. Maybe. The mercenaries would leave a trail enough for him to follow and find, right…?   
  
That Knight was a problem, though. He could tell he couldn’t best him with sheer force, much as he would like to. And the prince...he was clearly smart and cunning for his age. He had no difficulty imagining him predicting the exact moves Ike would try taking to escape and countering them with his own tactics. Ike had never had the best tactical mind, and often relied upon Titania for advice. Titania wasn’t here now, though. It was just himself, and the bars of a cell.  
  
_ If he sends anyone other then that Knight to escort me, I might be able to overpower them and steal their blade. Maybe then, I could escape…? _ _  
_ _  
_ It was a long shot, but what other choice did he have? He couldn’t just let him bring him to the King. He’d heard from his father what a cruel man he was, and from Elincia.  
  
_...Father…  
  
_ He’d been avoiding thinking about the prince’s words - that his father was a former Daein general. He just...couldn’t believe it. His father, working for a man as cruel as King Ashnard? He would never…!   
  
_ But…  
  
_ His father had seemed to know about Ashnard’s character. And he had known that knight. And his swordsmanship...it was so refined, so talented...maybe he really was -  
  
_ Stop.  
  
_ He could worry about Daein delusions when he got out of here. He settled himself by doing push ups and other basic exercises, trying to look for an opening.  
  
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a soldier that came down to his cell. It was the prince. He could tell by the soft footsteps and the lack of clanging armour or metal. He stopped in his tracks, sitting up and glaring at the prince as his face came into view by the light of torches.  
  
In this light, his eyes were even more eerie then they already were - the torchlight brought out the red in his irises even more prominently, and something was almost inhuman about them, when he was this close.  
  
“...We are bringing you to the capitol.” The prince spoke softly, eyes guarded pools of red. Idly, his fingers traced along the bars of his cell, before his left hand gripped it loosely. “...But you should have a meal before we travel.”   
  
Ike wavered, just a little. He was hungry, come to think, and the idea of what meals a Daein prince would have access to was more than a little tantalizing. Still, he huffed.  
  
“...That seems quite generous, for someone you’ve taken prisoner.”   
  
“...It won’t do to have you starving before we reach the King.” Soren spoke, emotionlessly, fingers tapping the bars. “...Wait here.”   
  
_ Like I have a choice.  
  
_ Soren returned, quickly, with a heated meal that looked fit to be his own. Ike was surprised he didn’t have a soldier do it for him, or that he didn’t have one here.  
  
_ He’s unarmed…  
  
_ Ike knew there was probably a guard outside the room, but still. The prince might have been smart, but he didn’t look like a fighter. His body was frail and fragile looking, like Ike could break his spine easier than how he chopped wood.  
  
_...Mmm…  
  
_ Soren unlocked the cell door, putting the meal before Ike. It was the best meal he’d ever seen - pieces of meat floating in perfectly cooked gravy, soft buttered bread and fruits circling the bowl. He swallowed.  
  
_ This is far too fine for someone like me...this isn’t prisoner’s food.  
  
_ “Are you going to eat, or simply stare?”   
  
Soren was still in the cell, leaning against the bars and staring at Ike warily, but still expectantly. Ike frowned, but put the thoughts of the luxury of this meal out of his mind, instead starting to eat.  
  
_ Ah…  
  
_ Once he started, he couldn’t stop - he devoured the stew and bread, and even the fruits that he usually didn’t like. It was good. Better than good. It was the best things he’d ever put in his mouth.  
  
_ Why is the prince treating me like this? _ _  
_ _  
_ Ike finally finished, to the clanging of cell doors - Soren had left the cell, locking it behind him, though he looked strangely hesitant to do so. Ike swallowed.  
  
_...I lost my opportunity to ambush him...Goddess damned..._ _ _  
_ _  
_ Well, it wasn’t like it would have really worked...and trying to ambush the prince, small as he was, Ike might end up accidentally killing him instead. So perhaps it was for the better…  
  
“...Rest. We travel in the morning.” Soren spoke softly, than left with nary a glance back. Ike was so puzzled, frowning as he licked the remnants of gravy from his lips.  
  
_...What in Goddess’ name is he thinking…? _ _  
_ _  
_ Ike couldn’t begin to fathom it. He tried again to break the bars of the cell, again to no avail, and exercised for a time before finally curling up, tired and exhausted, but well-fed and uninjured. It was so odd…  
  
He woke to the not so soft kick of an armoured boot, and groaned softly as he sat up, eyes still bleary from sleep as a dark figure blocked out the thin rays of the sun from the window.  
  
_...The Black Knight…  
  
_ “You are awake. Good.”   
  
Ike grimaced, but the knight pulled him harshly to his feet, dragging him out of the cell without any lack of pace despite his struggles. He really was strong.  
  
_ I hate him so.  
  
_ He dragged him out into the courtyard, and Ike squinted against the sunlight. Soldiers were chattering, or sparring, and in the middle of the field was the prince he’d come to recognize at first glance, staring down at a scroll as the sound of drills rang around him.  
  
“...My prince.”   
  
The Black Knight spoke in that voice like metal, and the prince looked up, deep and dark circles under his red eyes. He rolled up the scroll, eyes lingering on Ike’s figure despite Ike’s fierce glares and obvious displeasure.  
  
“...We are to travel to the castle in an hour.” Soren mused softly. “General, I would have you lead the march.”   
  
“Understood. And the son of Gawain?”   
  
“...We can’t put him in the wagons. And you are the only man I trust to keep him both from escaping and from harm.”   
  
_ From harm…? _ _  
_ _  
_ “...But, you cannot ride a horse with another man.” Soren seemed to think for a moment, and then he spoke again. “I will take him, then.”   
  
The Black Knight never showed his face, but he didn’t need to for Ike to tell that he was surprised, and worried.   
  
“...Are you certain, my prince…?”   
  
“I am certain.” He spoke calmly. “...Begin the preperations for the march. I will take Ike to my mount myself.”   
  
“...As you command.”   
  
The Black Knight than tied his wrists together, so tightly they chaffed - Ike knew it then if he didn’t before that the Knight genuinely cared for Soren beyond duty - the idea of Ike killing him to escape was at least disturbing to him. So he’d tied his wrists with rope so tight it almost broke them.  
  
_...Isn’t that strange.  
  
_ “...Come along than, Ike.”   
  
He heard the orders of the general behind him as Soren pulled him away by pulling on his bindings. Ike growled, almost like an animal, but he had to be led. This was humiliating...his eyes darting back and forth, desperate for an escape route.  
  
_ Goddess damn…  
  
_ Ike gritted his teeth, but followed the prince, who was mute and silent - though, he would sometimes glance back at Ike with eyes that seemed to search his very soul. Ike blinked, but never spoke up.  
  
_ It’s pointless.  
  
_ They left the city, and Ike had resigned himself to glowering at the ground. Were they heading to a stable…? They must be. Soren had mentioned a mount.  
  
_ Perhaps I can knock him off his horse if I am seated behind him.  
  
_ Ike had never been good with animals, though, and he wasn’t sure that even without his wrists bound, he’d be able to control a prince’s horse. Still, he had to try - he couldn’t just sit there and take it -  
  
To his surprise, they stopped, rather suddenly, Soren looking to the sky. Ike frowned, following his gaze, but all he saw was a bird circling the clouds high above them.  
  
_ What…? _ _  
_ _  
_ And then Soren whistled, and the shape came much closer - and Ike realized it was not a bird at all. Not by a long shot.  
  
A white wyvern had landed loudly on the ground, the trees around them and bushes trembling and shaking with the rumble it caused. Ike’s eyes went wide, and he backed up so quickly, he nearly fell. Cursing, he looked to Soren.   
  
“...Shh.”   
  
The beast was growling at Ike, but Soren soothed him with a few soft words, until it nuzzled his hand. Ike couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  
  
_ A wyvern…? A wyvern...the prince has a wyvern? _ _  
_ _  
_ Well, he wouldn’t be controlling that thing anytime soon. Ike cursed the goddess, at that moment, in spite.  
  
_ Perfect…  
  
_ Soren pulled gently on his restraints, forcing Ike to take a few steps forward. The beast was saddled with ropes and leather straps meant to keep it’s rider on it’s back, but Ike still shuddered violently at the thought of riding such a beast.  
  
“...I have had this wyvern since I was a child.” Soren explained to him, words and voice so achingly soft. “...There is nothing to fear from it, Ike. It will not drop you.”   
  
Ike scowled.   
  
“...I don’t have much choice in the matter, prince.” Ike said the last word with clear disdain, and the prince only looked away.   
  
“...Come, then.”   
  
\--

 

Soren could see the fear on Ike’s face - it was an expression he hated seeing there. He should have remembered - he might have been a wyvern rider even when he was a child, and viewed one just as most lords and princes viewed a horse, but most people did not see it that way.  
  
_ He’s terrified.  
  
_ But Soren knew, logically, there was nothing to fear - his wyvern had never dropped him, not in nearly ten years. They would be fine. Slowly, he pulled Ike onto his back, strapping him in silently. Any words would be meaningless.  
  
_ If I try to comfort him, he will think I am making mock of him.  
  
_ So instead, he was quiet, and climbed onto his mount only after he was certain Ike was safe. The fear had not left his features, the fear that Soren felt sick at creating.  
  
It wasn’t warranted, though. It wasn’t.  
  
His mount took to the skies, wings spread, and leaves dancing in the breeze caused by them unfurling. Immediately, Ike gripped his hips and waist hard, and Soren could feel his hands shaking even as Soren himself was calm as still water.  
  
“...There is nothing to fear, Ike.” Soren called back, despite his earlier thoughts. He couldn’t help it. “You will be fine.”   
  
Ike didn’t respond for a moment, and Soren turned to see his eyes squeezed shut. He bit his lip, before looking forward, wrapping his arms around his wyvern’s neck.  
  
_ I will make sure you are fine.  
  
_ He squeezed his wyvern’s neck, before they rose up, flying slowly and gently towards their destination.  
  
On the back of a dragon, it didn’t take them long to arrive in Melior at all. Soren stepped off his dragon, easily, than helped Ike off, gently undoing the straps.   
  
Again, he looked at him with such hatred. Soren’s face, meanwhile, was kept calm as still water. He had learned over the years to never show emotion.  
  
“...I told you it would be fine.” He couldn’t help pointing out to Ike. He flicked his head once Ike was down, and his wyvern took off appropriately. He paused, staring at Ike, before pulling him along.  
  
_ He likely finds this humiliating, but what else can I do? If he runs here, he is a dead man.  
  
_ His chest fell as he crossed the streets of Melior - despite the jeers and calls of abomination and devil child, he held his head high. As a prince, he could do no less.  
  
“...You’re not welcome here.” Ike hissed, and Soren turned in surprise, barely dodging a tomato that had been thrown at him from the crowd. “...All you’ve done is ruin people’s lives. And for what? A mad king?”   
  
Soren stared at him for a moment, pausing in his march. So he didn’t know, even now, what the mark on his forehead meant. Most of the Crimeans paid his father little mind as long as he didn’t slaughter them all. It was his blood that was the problem.  
  
_...How irritating.  
  
_ The pause was enough for someone to throw a glass cup at him and for it to meet it’s mark - it hit the side of his head, shattering with the force and leaving his skull ringing.  
  
_ Goddess damned.  
  
_ He turned away from Ike, pulling him back along the lane. It didn’t take them long to reach the castle gates, Soren having brushed away the shards of glass and leaving only a small wound. It was fine. He had dealt with worse. Much worse.   
  
“...I am here to see my father.” He murmured to the guards, standing up with the pride of a prince. The soldier looked him over, chuckling under his breath.  
  
“Prince Soren. Thought  you were supposed to come back with the Black Knight.”   
  
“He will be here shortly.” He said, coolly. “I merely arrived ahead of schedule.”  
  
“Of course.”   
  
The mark on his forehead was proof enough of his identity, and they unlatched and unbolted the door. Sighing, he stepped in, pulling Ike along.   
  
“...My father is likely busy, at the moment.” Soren called back to his disinterested companion, who looked at him uneasily despite his apparent desire to ignore him. “So, we will have to wait a time.”   
  
“...” Ike was silent for a moment, and then it seemed that silence was too much for even him to bear. He cleared his throat, before speaking up.  
  
“...You’re his only child. Wouldn’t he want to see you as soon as he could…?”   
  
Soren gave a sardonical, low laugh at the idea. “...Father does not care for things such as blood connections. He could care less if I am his son. All that matters is my ability. He finds me useful, and therefore, here I stay.”   
  
Ike seemed confused, for a moment. “...Are you...not actually his son?”   
  
“No, I am his blood.”  _ Unfortunately.  _ “But it wouldn’t make a difference if I was or wasn’t. That seems surprising to you.”   
  
Silence again filled the air, before Ike shook his head, glancing away.  
  
“...Your mother...what about her?”   
  
“...Princess Almedha of Goldoa, surely you know.” Everyone knew of the scandal of King Ashnard bedding a laguz woman.  
  
_ Then again, he seems sheltered. Gawain’s work, I wonder.  
  
_ “...I don’t know the name, but...sounds like you’re a prince twice over, then.”   
  
“...Yes, I suppose I am.”   
  
Ike huffed, and said no more. He could feel the detest in his gaze, though. Boring into the back of his skull like daggers impaled.  
  
_ His stare burns into my head more than the mark that glass left. _ _  
_ _  
_ Shaking his head, he pulled Ike into his own quarters, pausing before shutting the door behind him. His room was not lavish, not by any normal standards one would expect of royalty. There was a plain, albeit large, bed and a balcony he mostly used to call his wyvern, but other than that, it was exceptionally drab.  
  
“...Is this the room I’ll be staying in? I guess it’s nice for a makeshift cell…” Ike spoke up, instinctively twisting in the grip of his restraints.   
  
“...This is my room.” Soren spoke calmly, pulling out a knife from the inside of his sleeve. Carefully, he cut through the restraints on Ike’s wrists, the boy looking up at him with surprise.  
  
“...Is anything stopping me from strangling you right now?” He spoke softly, flexing his fingers, and rubbing at his wrists.  
  
_ No. But you’re not the type of person to do that. At least, I hope the boy I met would not grow up to do such a thing.  
  
_ “The guards patrolling the halls would surely hear and stop you.” Soren droned. “They will also do that if you try to run. Your appearance is rather distinctive, so I doubt you will be able to run without being caught. Given that, the restraints my general tied...are unnecessary.”  
  
“Your general.”   
  
Ike glared, and Soren merely shrugged before sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. For just a brief moment, he felt dizzy, the exhaustion from his journey finally fully hitting him.  
  
“Yes. He will be here in a day or so, I imagine. Perhaps even by nightfall. The Black Knight has his ways of getting where he wishes.”   
  
“...”   
  
_ Zelgius, you fool of a man...if you had not killed his father, he would not be viewing us with such hatred.  
  
_ “Is he your retainer? I thought he was one of your father’s riders.”   
  
Hesitantly, Ike sat on a chair near a desk, letting himself relax at least a little. Soren flickered his eyes open, shaking his head.   
  
“He is not my retainer. He is my father’s.” He said carefully, wondering why he would ask such a question. Was he truly that sheltered?   
  
“...He seems to care for you, though.”   
  
“...I have known him all my life. Such attachment comes after a certain point.”   
  
Soren knew the real reason - they both bore the Brand, albeit for entirely different reasons. Zelgius was an indirect Branded, someone who had had the mark surface after generations of pure relations. Soren, meanwhile, was the product of a direct violation of the tenants of the so called Goddess.   
  
_ And so I must be punished.  
  
_ But even when he’d been a child, Zelgius had taken pity on him for their shared nature, even if Soren’s was much more blasphemous. Soren knew that was the only reason, but it was something.  
  
It was nothing compared to the selfless and life shattering kindness Ike had shown him as a child, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thanks for all the comments and responses I got from the previous chapter - I've been working on this fic for a while, and I thought it was too self indulgant to post, so I'm relieved that when I finally got the courage to do so, people seem to enjoy it. I'm very happy with that, and thank you all so much!
> 
> I'm hoping to update this fairly frequently - I already have quite a bit of it roughly written without having been edited yet - and I don't want to fall into a drought of not updating. I truly am glad there are some people that are enjoying it. I'm especially surprised, though, at the amount of comments I've gotten enjoying Zelgius and Soren's interactions - It's made me reconsider future plot points for this fic, since I figured Zelgius wasn't that popular and that most people wouldn't share my desire to see more of him in a setting like this. Soren does care for him more then he lets on - that will become apparent as the story progresses - but he also sees, in his mind, a more self serving reason for Zelgius' care towards him - that being that they're both Branded, and contrasts it with Ike's kindness in saving his life as a child, when he had no such incentive to do so.
> 
> Ike is pretty rough in this chapter, but I think it's self explanatory and warranted. Soren's strategies are basically one of the main reasons in canon that Ike's group ever got anywhere, or at least got as far as they did (said in the artbook, and in several of the Cipher cards) so I imagine in an AU where Soren is working for Daein, Daein would be much more successful, and Ike would have even more resentment towards him. However, he does still have some instinctive sympathy, because in general Ike strikes me as a very inherently kind person no matter what he tells himself.


	3. Blood on my Blade

Ike had no idea why the hell the Prince was keeping him here.  
  
Why not just throw him to the cells, if he was waiting for his father’s call? Having him here, when Ike could easily kill him to eliminate one of Elincia’s threats…  
  
_Is he suicidal? What is he thinking?_  
  
He stared at him, noting his clearly exhausted demeanor, how small he looked like this. And yet, despite looking like a child, despite looking small, Ike knew how large a threat he was, even if it wasn’t physically.  
  
_Soren’s tactics are the reason for everything. That’s the intel I got.  
  
_ So killing him, even if it was at the cost of his own life, was the reasonable, right thing to do. King Ashnard was cunning, but he couldn’t hope to match the tactics of his son. It would be a damning strike to Daein to rob it’s King of his heir and chief tactician in one blow, and well worth Ike’s life.  
  
Yet, when he thought of Mist, crying as the boat drifted to safety, and of his father, begging him to live in peace…  
  
_Not only that, but…  
  
_ Looking at this boy, remembering how he’d been pelted with fruit and even glass, even getting injured, who’s father seemed to regard him as he himself did a blade...pity struck a thick cord in his heart.  
  
He tried to dissuade it, tried to push it aside - this was a prince! A prince twice over. He must have lived an exceedingly privileged life, all while holding his power over the masses that had to toil under him to even get scraps to eat, while he ate grand meals.  
  
And yet, this room was so barren - the desk was covered in papers, maps drawn by hand, translations written out in a fervent scrawl of strategies written in the ancient tongue. Inkpots upon inkpots stacked, and tomes stacked up high. It was clear this prince worked hard. Besides the window, there was barely any room for light.  
  
_What kind of prince lives like this?_  
  
It just cemented in his head what a devil Ashnard was, really. To make his own son only feel useful as someone akin to a tool, and to keep him in such a drab, small room...and to work him so strongly…  
  
_That doesn’t make everything Soren’s done okay, though…!_  
  
Urgh, his head hurt. But he knew Soren having a bad father...didn’t justify him helping his father’s plans. It wasn’t like he was forced.  
  
_He couldn’t have been.  
  
_ His thoughts continued, running around in circles as he tried to make himself stand, try to make himself strangle the boy who had so foolishly given his hands freedom, but…  
  
_...I...I just can’t…  
  
_ He grit his teeth, frustrated. Maybe another opening would present itself…  
  
The door was knocked on, and Soren glanced up - jolted, really. For a moment, Ike saw fear in those crimson eyes at the sudden noise. Quickly, though, Soren seemed to recover, standing up and dusting off his robes as if they had gotten dirty, before answering the door.  
  
“Prince. The Black Knight has returned.” The servant spoke softly, glancing over Ike but not saying anything. Soren nodded, sending them on their way.  
  
_The Black Knight has arrived here already…?_  
  
Sure enough, not ten minutes later, the man who had killed his father and traumatized both him and his sister was standing in the doorway, and intimidating and frightening as ever. Ike was gripped by a sudden desire to stand up and lunge at him, but again, he gritted his teeth. The Black Knight was armed, after all, unlike the Prince. That would be foolish.  
  
_I won’t die so easily...I can’t afford to.  
  
_ “...Does my Father know of your return?”  
  
“Not as yet.” The Black Knight shook his head, the metal clanging. “But I imagine he will find out shortly. Perhaps we should report to him before that happens.”  
  
Soren nodded, seeming quite resolved about something. He turned to Ike, though when the Knight saw he was unrestrained, he frowned.  
  
“...We should restrain him again before going before your Father, my prince.” He spoke sternly. “In fact, you should not have unrestrained him at all. He could have killed you.”  
  
“He did not, however.” Soren said smoothly. “As if a simple mercenary boy could kill me, regardless. Such a thing is impossible.”  
  
Ike scorned his arrogance - he could have easily handled him…! He was just a frail little prince. Or had he somehow predicted that he wouldn’t be able to do it?  
  
_That’s crazy, though...wouldn’t he expect the worst of a mercenary? I know at this point he isn’t stupid…  
  
_ He sighed, letting the Black Knight restrain him, as much as he wanted to wrap his arms around his throat and drain the life from him.  
  
_The King, huh...Mad King Ashnard of Daein. Finally, I’ll get to see you face to face. Even if it’s without a weapon…  
  
_ The throne room was grand and large, as befit a king’s residence. But it was dark - almost all of the curtains were drawn, leaving torchlight as the only source of warmth and light despite it being only late afternoon, as far as Ike knew. The king himself resembled his son little - he was hulking, giant, tall and muscled. A beast of a man. Ike trembled despite himself.  
  
_I’m not afraid...but this is the man Titania, Mist, and Elincia will have to fight…?_  
  
Soren looked like a child in comparison. The only similarity the two had was ghastly pale skin - Soren lacked both Ashnard’s blue hair and eyes. It was hard to know they were even related.  
  
“...I see you have returned, with a prize as well.” Ashnard drummed his fingers over the arm of his throne, watching as Soren approached. “Someone else to throw into the pits, than?”  
  
“...King Ashnard.” Soren bowed, politely. “I assure you, I can vouch for the boy’s strength. He does not need to be tested in the pits.”  
  
_Pits…?_  
  
“...Is that so?”  
  
“Yes. For not only is the boy the leader of the Crimean rebels, according to the Black Knight...he is the son of your former rider. General Gawain.”  
  
_Gawain…?_  
  
It seemed like such a distant memory at this point, but he could remember - both the Knight and Soren had called his father Gawain, and had said that he was a Daein general at one point. But that couldn’t be, right…?  
  
But…

“...Hah...is that so? You have brought the blood of a traitor to my door, Soren?”  
  
“I have _brought_ you an able fighter.” Soren said sharply, resulting in a harsh laugh from his father. From Ike's confused perspective, it seemed he found Soren's defiance and sharp tone amusing. “Ike is the son of such a legendary swordsman. He had been trained by him his entire life. He would be nothing less then a boon to your ambitions.”  
  
_...What is Soren trying to do?  
  
_ Ike was bewildered. Why was he trying to get Ashnard to let him join…? It didn’t make any sense...why did he care if he lived or died?  
  
_I can’t be that strong, can I? Not to a King…  
  
_ “Moreover, you would be foolish to kill him. The group once led by Gawain already resents you further for his death. Regardless of whether it was done by your hand, they see the blood laid at Daein’s door. Killing his son as well will cause them to be even more annoying to break down. An inconvenience not worthy of my father’s time.”  
  
Ashnard seemed unimpressed, but Soren was resolved - his eyes shone with pure determination and cunning.  
  
“...Tell me, then, Soren. How do you know how strong the boy is?” Ashnard stood, but Soren held his ground, even as he descended the steps. “Did you fight him yourself? Cross blades with him? Run him into the dirt and make him submit?”  
  
Soren flinched, opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Ike began to worry - because Soren certainly looked uncertain.  
  
“Or perhaps, you merely relied on my general’s blade yet again, is that it? You fight with nothing but your mind, Soren. One who cannot wield a blade and break followers to their knees is not worthy of being a prince at all.”  
  
“...I am aware, Father. And yet I can vouch for his strength, regardless.”  
  
Ike didn’t know much about how court was usually held, nor did he truly know about how kings usually spoke - the only one he had met was the Laguz King in Gallia. And yet despite his lack of knowledge, something about this seemed so off.  
  
_Does a King really speak like this to his son?  
  
_ No one was around to see such degrading words, but instinctively, it struck at him as very strange.  
  
“...Prove it, then.” Ashnard snapped his fingers. “General, give this boy your blade.”  
  
The Black Knight paused for a moment, seemingly unsure.  
  
“What did you say his name was? Ike. Yes. Give him your blade.”  
  
Soren blinked in surprise - though, perhaps he should have predicted this. His father appreciated his tactical skills and the genius of them, but he was always unsatisfied with his physical skills, both magical and otherwise.  
  
“...You want…?”  
  
“I want to see this strength my son speaks of.” Ashnard turned, and sat back in his throne. “And I want to see that my resources have not been wasted on you, Soren. Well? What are you waiting for?”  
  
“...Your Majesty, I must advise - “  The Black Knight started, but Ashnard silenced him with a wave of his hand.  
  
“...Ike, if you can defeat my son completely and utterly, you are free to leave, to go wherever you wish.” Ashnard said savagely, and Ike’s heart jumped in his throat. He couldn’t trust the King of Daein, but...the words and the promise ignited hope in his chest nevertheless. It was an instinctive reaction, one that couldn’t be stopped. He had to at least take this chance - a small, small chance to get back to his sister. She deserved that.  
  
_Mist..._  
  
“...It’s fine, General.” Soren said calmly, and Ike looked at him in surprise as he drew his tome, wind magic brushing over the pages. Even at this distance, he could tell that Soren was a very powerful mage. They hadn’t fought many mages up to this point  
  
_This might be difficult.  
  
_ He was certain he could do it, though - Soren was so frail, defeating him physically would be easy. But…  
  
_Is this truly how the King of Daein treats his own son? He truly is a devil…  
  
_ Ike hissed as the ropes were cut, and the Black Knight’s blade slid into his hand. The very blade that had taken his father’s life. It was heavier than his own...but he had to wield it. For his sake…  
  
He looked over at Soren, noticing the resolve in his eyes.  
  
_Surely, he won’t hesitate to end me, either. This is war. I...have to get back to Mist, if I can...I must…  
  
_ Despite that, swinging his sword felt so wrong, as the air danced with sparks and flares of magic. Soren was fast, and good at dodging - he must have gotten used to doing so, since it was obviously his body couldn’t take more than a few hits.

 

_This is war. I have to do this._

 

He kept telling that, over and over, even when his gut lurched when he finally landed a hit - something about it just felt so sinful. Like the Goddess - or even his Father - was frowning at him from on high for doing such things.  
  
_...This is the Prince of Daein! This boy is the reason for Elincia losing her parents...indirectly, it’s why Father died. If it hadn’t been for his tactics…_  
_  
_ But why, then, does this feel like a sin?  
  
Soren’s magic struck him a few times, cutting into his clothes and splitting his skin. He had to ignore the pain, but it didn't seem too bad.. Finally, the tome broke apart in Soren’s hands, and he tripped on his own robes.  
  
_This is it, than...I have to…!_  
  
Despite the screeching in his gut, he brought his sword down with all he had - only to hear the screeching, ear piercing sound of metal. He opened his eyes, surprised at what he saw.  
  
_The Black Knight…?_  
  
Like a wall, the Knight had gotten in between the two of them - his own sword was caught on his armour’s shoulder blades, Ike’s strike enough to cut into it, but not enough to pierce it completely. For a moment, the room was silent, except for Soren and Ike’s mixed desperate gasps for air.  
  
“...Your Grace. I must insist you put an end to this.” The Knight’s voice was sharp, and like metal. “For the sake of your legacy.”  
  
“...You are defying me, Black Knight, you realize?”  
  
“I realize.” The Black Knight said without a hint of hesitation. “But if you wish to ever hold that medallion in your hands, I suggest you suspend this duel.”  
  
Ike had no idea what he meant, but he was trembling, barely holding the sword. There was a long pause, and than a bark of laughter.  
  
“Hah…! Very well. You will insist on this insect being  a thorn in my side for longer, then, General? You truly hold more loyalty to a half bred abomination than your own King?”  
  
The Black Knight didn’t respond, but Ashnard clicked his tongue.  
  
“...Very well. If that is the way of it.”  
  
The Black Knight relaxed, and Ike with him, the sword clanging and falling to the floor. Shuddering, he barely kept himself upright.  
  
_This is sickening…  
  
_ “...You may have the Black Knight to protect you for now, boy.” Ashnard had stepped closer, and Ike and flinched, but found he was not talking to him - instead, he was talking to his son, a boy in broken and blood soaked robes, unable to stand.

_...Soren…  
  
_ The King’s blade was out, pressed against Soren’s forehead - blood pooled down, and Ike began to genuinely fear that with more blood loss, he truly would die, and it would be for nothing at this point.  
  
“But he will not always be here. You must not rely on others for your strength. That said...I suppose I can give you the son of Gawain for now. Simply make sure he is willing to work for us. I want to see such brilliant fighting skills come to fruition.”  
  
Soren was breathing heavily, pale and trembling despite himself. Incredibly to Ike, when he spoke, he managed to keep his voice somewhat steady.  
  
“Yes, father. I understand.”  
  
The Black Knight lifted his own blade and sheathed it again.  
  
“You are dismissed. Do as you will.”  
  
Soren managed to stumble to his feet, and quickly the Knight ushered him out, presumably before the King could change his mind. Ike was shaking, and his body was still alight with adrenaline, and yet exhausted, all at once.  
  
_He almost let me kill him...his own son. How could he allow such a thing? How?_  
  
Ike had heard the king was mad. He did not think before that it had run so deeply. It was truly chilling, to see a man so disappointed that his own son wasn’t dead.  
  
_...Goddess above…  
  
_ “...You could have been killed.”  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by words spoken through coughs once they were out in the hall. He turned to see Soren, struggling to speak with his injuries.  
  
“...So easily...my father could have swung an axe on you. You must be more careful…”  
  
He was speaking to the Knight, he dimly realized, with concern sharp in his gaze. The Knight merely shook his head, reaching forward to cover the birthmark on Soren’s forehead with his bangs.  
  
“Your father could not kill me, Soren. You need not worry - worry for yourself. You must see a healer, before you truly do bleed out.”  
  
“...Ike.” Soren had slurred. “...Ike must see one, as well.”  
  
Ike tensed at that thought, somewhat confused. He really…was concerned with him at a moment like this? True, Ike was injured, but Soren’s wounds were much more severe - he’d been one strong, swift blow away from death, after all.  
  
“...You should focus on yourself, Prince Soren.” Ike found himself saying, much to the prince’s surprise - he glanced up, looking at him with wide eyes.  
  
“...Ah…”  
  
“...You’re going to die if you don’t get treated. Those aren’t light wounds. I’ve spilled enough blood to know I want to avoid having more on my hands. I’d rather you did not die because of me for nothing.”  
  
The only sound was the wind whistling through the halls, for a few beats. Ike’s eyes were like calm, blue fire, while Soren’s were large and shocked.  
  
“...Ike…”  
  
Soren’s voice was faltering, and his legs did as well - the Black Knight caught him easily, and Ike watched as those crimson eyes fluttered shut.  
  
_...Goddess above._  
  
Things happened very quickly after that - The Black Knight hitched the unconscious prince into his arms as if he were as light as a child. With a stern gaze, he led Ike down to the dungeons. Ike debated fighting, debated defiance, but…  
  
_I’ll just die. There’s no point. And Mist...Titania...Elincia…  
  
_ They were probably hoping for his safe return. After what had happened with his father...after what had happened with Elincia’s parents...he couldn’t bring himself to do something like that. To die in a blaze of defiance.  
  
_...And, the Prince…_  
  
He frowned, sitting down on a chair in the cell the knight had shoved him in, being healed by a healer that wouldn’t meet his gaze. The Prince was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, small and frail as much as he was clearly brilliant and cold.  
  
_And yet…_  
  
He acted so strange around him. Ike couldn’t fathom why. He wanted to know why. There had to be some reason - he wasn’t stupid enough to believe the Prince was just acting this way because he’d hit his head and gone insane.  
  
_He took me captive. Took me away from my family. But…_  
  
It was hard not to remember the stare Ashnard had given Soren. So cruel, indifferent, disappointed. Ike couldn’t imagine his own father looking at him like that.  
  
Again, he struggled, long after the healer had left and when he was laying on a pile of straw, staring at the ceiling, in the dark. He struggled with what to think of the Prince. How could he feel sorry for him, when he’d been complicit in such awful crimes against Crimea?  
  
_But…  
  
_ Something nagged at him. Something about that desperate look he’d given him - a plea with his eyes. A desperate plea for help, as if he were slowly dying within himself.  
  
_I don’t understand it at all.  
  
_ Ike barely slept that night. And when he did sleep, he had nightmares. Nightmares of the Prince, and of his blade sinking into his skin, blood warming his fingers.  
  
_“Ike.” The Prince pleaded, Ike’s eyes wide as he felt his blood dripping down his fingers. “You promised. You...promised…”_  
  
_Ike didn’t understand what he was saying. Promised what? Ike’s eyes held nothing but confusion, and the Prince’s - Soren’s - were overflowing with sorrow and desperation unlike anything Ike had seen._  
  
_“Help me,” Soren’s lips moved, blood dripping off them and making his skin look even paler. Like death. “Protect me. You promised. Help me.”_  
  
_He didn’t understand what he was saying. Protect him? Help him? But he was the enemy, wasn’t he? Why would he want to protect him?_  
  
_Ike reached back, reached for an explanation, but -_  
_  
_ Something was blocking him.  
  
_Blood flashed in front of his eyes, blood that wasn’t Soren’s but he couldn’t see_ what _it was. Screams filled his ears, blocking him to whatever truth he was looking for._  
  
_“Help me.” Soren repeated, in that mantra. “Help me, Ike, please…”_  
  
Ike woke with a shudder, cold sweat making his skin slick to the touch. He was panting, too, and he felt as if he’d just finished a set of drills in a blizzard. He sat up quickly, clutching his head as sweat beaded down his neck.  
  
_...What…?_  
  
The dream was fuzzy, but he could remember some of it - the blood, the desperation, the prince’s tearful pleas for protection. His blood on his blade. His dying breaths.  
  
Ike was bewildered. Why would he have a dream like that…? It didn’t make any sense…  
  
_Maybe it’s because...I almost killed him last night. So...easily…  
  
_ His face turned into a grimace, as he clenched his fist, remembering, sickness sweeping over him in a rush. Remembering Ashnard coming so close to letting his son just die, just for being weak - despite the fact that he’d already heard that Soren was anything but weak when it came to tactics. Last night, he'd just been so tired - he couldn't think of everything at once. Now, though, he felt disgust - both at the king...and at himself.  
  
_It’s sickening. It’s disgusting. How could I do something like that...? How could I assist in that...Goddess, what would Father think...?_

Would his father understand that he needed to survive? For Mist...he'd promised her on their Father's grave to stay with her. Ike had already betrayed that promise once. He didn't want to do it again. Didn't want to tempt the fates again, when they'd let him live this long. _  
_

But still, he hadn't done anything - he'd just let the King use him as his puppet to hurt his son. He'd one what he'd wanted. Soren had almost died because of his selfishness. _  
  
_ And the Black Knight - his father’s killer. He’d been the one to protect him, risking his head under the axe for him. Ike didn’t understand that either. How could someone like the Black Knight be more selfless then himself...? In a situation like that? Was he really...  
  
_The Black Knight is a sick man. He threatened to torture me and killed my father in front of me. Yet he tried to risk his life for Soren, he defied the king, when even I couldn't…? Does he have some sort of plan…?_  
  
Than again, he could remember when the Black Knight had restrained him - hell, he didn’t even have to think back to remember it. He just had to look at his wrists, and see the indentations of rope still on his skin, because the Black Knight was that desperate to keep Soren safe.  
  
Having loyalty to a prince over a king...Ike didn’t get it at all, and thinking about it too much made his head hurt. The Black Knight was his enemy. Someone he had to get revenge on. Someone he’d been training to get revenge on. Whatever he’d done...it didn’t cancel out that sin. It didn’t. It couldn't...  
  
_No more than Soren…  
  
_ He sighed, looking up and staring out the window. Dawn was breaking. Ike wondered what this day had in store for him. He wondered if it’d be the last dawn he saw.  
  
_I won’t let it be. I have to live.  
  
_ Ike watched the sunrise intently, memorizing it, just in case he did fail. The sky was red with blood, and even though it made him ill, reminding him of the prince's blood on the Black Knight's blade, and in his dreams, he stared anyway. Let the sickness seep over him, as the colours of the breaking sun cascading over the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ike: Honestly, Ike was pretty hard to write in this chapter. And I feel like some people might be disapproving of him agreeing to duel Soren - it will be addressed more later, and Ike will think about it more later, but for the moment, I think a lot of it is desperation and loyalty to his family, along with exhaustion and fear. He feels lucky to have survived this far, and if he can get back to his sister, he truly wants to achieve that. Titania, Mist, and Elincia have all lost so much, and now that he's lived this long after using himself as bait, he wants to try and get back to them if he can. One of Mist's traits especially is not wanting to lose her brother, and I just think he would think she was worth this chance. If it's any consolation, if Soren had not fairly quickly agreed, I don't think Ike would have gone through with it, at least not as readily. Regardless, this is the chapter I'm most insecure about, and I considered writing it out, but in the end I felt it was too an essential part of the story.
> 
> Ashnard: Ahh, Ashnard - one of the most fascinating Fire Emblem villains to me - granted, he's no Arvis or Zephiel in my book, but he's definitely up there. Writing him is quite a bit of fun, because he's such a twisted character, but unlike most Fire Emblem chaotic evil villains, you can kind of see his logic, even if it's twisted and cruel. He definitely values strength above all else, and while he values Soren as a tactician, the idea of him inheriting his Kingdom after his death is less then appealing to him, and if you read his final battle quotes in PoR, you can see that Ashnard does see the possibility of his death, unlike other villains that seem to believe themselves gods that cannot be killed. Zelgius is basically the only thing keeping him alive, as well as Soren's tactics being genuinely useful.
> 
> Feedback: Once again, thanks for all the positive feedback - I really did not expect to get this much, and I really appreciate all of it. Thank you for reading, and thank you for enjoying it if you do. I hope to keep up fairly consistent updates, since I already have quite a bit of this story free written.


	4. Rebirth

When Soren woke up, pain laced over his skin. That was normal. That was fine. He was used to pain - so, so used to it. It’d be stranger to him if he didn’t feel sore and anguish upon waking. First thing in the morning. Last thing at night.  
  
 _All I can remember is pain except for one burst of light.  
  
_ He sat up, slowly, trying to not aggravate his wounds. Ike had given him these wounds. The same person that represented that light he so sought after -  
  
 _It wasn’t his fault. He just wanted to live.  
  
_ He shifted, bandages rustling. Zelgius - he must have brought him here. _I must have fainted, in the hallway. That’s the last thing I remember. Ike telling me he didn’t want me to die like that.  
  
_ Hope sprung in his chest, but like every other time, Soren crushed it mercilessly. No, he couldn’t remember. Ike was just...a kind person. He wouldn’t want someone to die for nothing. That was all.  
  
 _That’s all._   
  
He made himself stand up, despite the pain that went through him. He was dressed down to his smallclothes, and when he looked in the mirror, he could see the severity of his wounds. He almost died. It almost took his breath away, how frail he was.  
  
 _Disgusting.  
  
_ Soren glanced out the window, seeing the sun rise, the start of the new dawn. It shone like a light beacon, but Soren found himself shaking despite it. Slowly, he got dressed, trying not to reopen his wounds.  
  
_I must convince Ike to join us today. I must._   
  
If he couldn’t - he’d have to risk everything and help Ike escape. Risk his own position. Risk Zelgius. He didn’t want to do that if he could help it, but -  
  
 _I owe Ike so much. I can’t let something like that stop me.  
  
_ Still, he’d rather it didn’t come to that. He clicked his tongue, leaving his room once he was fully dressed, once his hair was pinned back. Once he looked more like a prince. If one didn’t look too close, they wouldn’t even notice he was wounded.  
  
 _As a prince should be.  
  
_ No guards were outside his door - that wasn’t normal. Usually Zelgius would be outside his door every morning. It disquieted Soren enough that instead of going to the dungeons first thing, he headed to the barracks.  
  
The soldiers were just waking up, chatting with each other, but when Soren showed up unexpectedly, they stood at attention, eyes serious and curious. Soren asked where the Black Knight had gone, and asked for a serious, complete answer.  
  
“Well, my prince, the king - er, your father, he sent The Black Knight away on a far away mission. Something about insolence...”  
  
Soren’s blood ran cold, as cold as the ice people said ran through his veins. Zelgius had been sent away...because of his impertinence.   
  
_He actually left. I’m surprised he didn’t murder Ashnard on his throne when he tried to send him away.  
  
_ He allowed himself to relish in that image, before turning away, leaving the soldiers bewildered.  
  
It wasn’t as thought he had never been without the Black Knight before, but so soon after a failure in the eyes of his father...he didn’t like it, not at all. It made him feel uneasy, paranoid, and out of place in these halls. He held his tome close to his chest and stayed on high alert as he headed down to the dungeons.  
  
“...You can walk. I’m surprised.”  
  
Ike’s gaze was as defiant as ever as he stared at him, from the other side of the cell bars.  
  
 _...Defiance. Blue flame. How I adore your gaze, Ike.  
  
_ He was so tired. This war had been draining him dry, and now all this...Soren felt ready to save Ike’s life, to send him on his way, and simply throw himself off a tower. It wasn’t as thought he was going to do Daein any good at this point. It wasn’t as though he could do Ike any good at this point. Ike didn’t trust him.  
  
 _My life has truly been such a joke of the goddess at my expense. I hope she chokes on her laughter.  
  
_ But now wasn’t the time for Soren to engage in self pity. He met Ike’s fierce and passionate gaze with a dead eyed one of his own.  
  
“...Let me be frank, Ike.” He said softly, voice forlorn. “You have two options. You can stay here, and serve my father...or, you can stay and serve me. Those are your two options if you wish to live.”  
  
For now, it would be easier if he could make Ike an ally. If he could make him take the bait, to use just a little bit of the self preservation instinct he knew even someone like Ike must have - smuggling him out of here would be far too dangerous. He would do it, with no other options, but he wanted to make sure it was a last resort.  
  
“...That’s a strange distinction.” Ike snorted, eyes suspicious and cold. “...The Black Knight isn’t with you. I find that strange.”  
  
Soren rolled his shoulders, too exhausted to think of a lie. “...My father sent him far away, after last night.”   
  
To Soren’s surprise, Ike’s eyes lit up with surprise and alarm at those words. Why? He didn’t have the energy to wonder, but he forced himself to anyway.   
  
_Does he want to kill him? Is he disappointed that he isn’t here? No, that’s alarm, for certain.  
  
_ He tilted his head, but Ike spoke before he could break the silence with his curiousity.  
  
“...Why are you making a distinction between serving your father or you?”   
  
Soren blinked. Why even bother asking that…?   
  
“...You must have noticed by now that King Ashnard and I…” He fumbled with his words, not exactly sure what to say. “...We do different things.”   
  
“Different.” Ike echoed, skeptically.   
  
“...King Ashnard is leading the war effort. I merely stay here, most of the time, and write tactics, strategies.” Soren lifted his head. “...If you were to serve me, it would not be as one of King Ashnard’s soldiers. You would be my personal retainer, and you would go where I went, and protect me with your life.”   
  
_Such a thing wouldn’t be something you’d accept -  
  
_ And yet, Ike wasn’t denying his proposal outright - Soren noticed his eyes go wide when he said the word protect, for only a moment.  
  
“...A retainer, huh…” Ike blinked. “Don’t you have one already?”  
  
“...No. I have never found someone suitable.”   
  
“Seems strange that you’d offer that position to someone who tried to kill you.” Ike pointed out, a sardonic grin crossing his lips.   
  
_...Is he considering this? Or just making mock of me?_   
  
“...You are strong. You have Daein blood.” Soren pointed out, folding his arms. It hurt when he did so, thanks to his injuries, but he did it regardless. “I am considering you for a high honour, in the Daein court.”   
  
“...”   
  
Ike was quiet, seemingly contemplating something. Soren stared down at him in bewilderment. He was considering it, wasn’t he?   
  
...Why…?   
  
“...This war…” Ike suddenly spoke up, looking back at him with those captivating sapphire eyes. “...Prince Soren, what do you think of it?”   
  
“...What do I…?”   
  
Soren stared for a long time, than darted his gaze around. There could be spies around every corner...and than both him and Ike could be executed.   
  
In truth, he found this war foolish, and didn’t understand his father’s motivations. It was simply draining their resources and for what? Crimean territory was fertile, yes, but why not stop there? His father kept provoking Gallia. Soren was bewildered by that. While many Daein hated the laguz, as most beorc did everywhere, his father was not one of them - he saw the worth in their strength, and had even bedded a laguz woman to bear Soren. A war with Gallia so soon after conquering Crimea was so foolish.  
  
And yet, his father never explained to him, and Soren was simply put to work. There was nothing he could do, especially when he didn’t know his father’s motivations.  
  
He bit his lip, unsure of what to say, but Ike made a response unnecessary when he nodded.   
  
“...I think I can tell what you think of it. You just don’t wanna say, that it?”   
  
Soren bit his lip harder, glancing away.  
  
“...If I agree to serve you,” Ike spoke, and Soren jolted. “...Will that keep me alive? Will I be able to see my family?”  
  
Soren’s throat went dry, and all he could do was nod, not really thinking. Ike was actually…   
  
“...If you swear that to me…” Ike started, standing up. “...Than I think I can do it. Serve you, I mean.”   
  
Soren could have cried. This could be a trap, but if it was Ike, he didn’t care. He nodded rapidly, and Ike gave one of those sardonic grins again.   
  
“You’re quiet, you know. Maybe you’re not as bad as they all said.” His grin fell. “...Maybe, anyway.”   
  
Soren could already tell Ike’s loyalty was frail, liable to snap like a stray thread. But he would cling to it, keep it together, as long as it kept Ike alive.   
  
“...I suppose I’ll have to let you out of this cell.”   
  
With shaky fingers, Soren unlocked the door, half expecting Ike to strange him, but he didn’t. He just looked at him, and stepped out.   
  
_...This went...much better than I expected.  
  
_ \--  
  
Ike half couldn’t believe his own words. His own decision. But…   
  
_Something’s different about the Prince today. That dream I had, too…  
  
_ It had been bothering him so much. And the prince’s eyes...they looked so much like the ones in his dream. Pleading. Desperate. Begging for life.  
  
When he’d said the Black Knight was gone...well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out where that led. Ike could tell that the Black Knight had been protecting the Prince from Ashnard’s moments of cruelty, or at least trying to. Without him here…  
  
_Who will protect the prince the next time he goes mad…?_   
  
Ike knew it shouldn’t be his concern. He knew the Prince was an enemy. But...the way he’d faltered when Ike asked about the war, about Soren’s feelings on it...he could tell, Soren was frightened of saying what he truly thought - which could only mean one thing.   
  
_He doesn’t support it. Not completely._   
  
And it wasn’t like Ike would be serving Ashnard - he’d just be playing bodyguard duty to the prince. Part of him still doubted that this was the right choice - it might be better to just try and run. But…  
  
 _The Prince did swear I could see my family._   
  
And he was obviously frightened, shaken up, as if he expected Ike to kill him but was trusting him anyway. Ike...couldn’t just betray that. Something about it felt so wrong.   
  
He remembered stabbing him and having his blood drip onto his hands in his dream.  
  
...So wrong.  
  
“...We should go to my room.” Soren said, after a period of silence. “...I suppose I will have to have a blade made for you. And clothes…”  
  
Ike was surprised at that - he was giving him a sword so quickly? Well, he couldn’t complain. But he did find it strange. Like he found a lot of things about Soren.   
  
“...If that’s what you want.” Ike said, eyes guarded. Soren looked up at him with eyes that only had a pinch of light, before turning, expecting Ike to follow. Ike didn’t have much choice but to comply.   
  
The halls of the castle were cold, and empty. Ike shivered as they walked, but Soren seemed perfectly comfortable. He almost always seemed composed...   
  
_Of course.  
  
_ Ike was relieved when they entered Soren’s room - it was much warmer in here. Soren looked up at Ike, than sat on the bed.  
  
“...You must be hungry.” Soren said, voice so very soft. “Shall I order breakfast…?”   
  
“...If that’s what you want, Prince Soren.”   
  
He still had to remain a little withdrawn. Soren’s eyes flickered with something that might have been disappointment, but he rang a little bell and ordered breakfast, anyway. Ike hesitated, before settling to lean against the wall next to Soren’s door.   
  
_This is...awkward._   
  
Finally, breakfast arrived, and Ike couldn’t help digging in and devouring it atll. The meat here...it was incredible, goddess above. It could have been poisoned and Ike wouldn’t have even noticed with how good it was.   
  
Soren ate more slowly, he noted, carefully. But he kept his food close, as if he expected someone to steal it. Ike couldn’t tell if that was because he was here, or if it was just something Soren habitually did.  
  
 _...I’m already thinking of him as Soren.  
  
_ For some reason, it felt more natural than Prince - Soren. It was a pretty name, Ike had to give him that much. A pretty name for a pretty face…  
  
_...What am I thinking…?_   
  
Annoying with his own thoughts, Ike dug in more into the food, until all of his serving was gone. Wiping his mouth, he watched as Soren finished as well.   
  
...It’s best if I stay silent.  
  
That dream replayed in his mind again - Soren’s desperation, his pleas for protection, for help, his blood -   
  
“...Do you like to train, Ike?”   
  
Soren’s voice was so soft Ike could have mistaken it for the wind. He blinked, then looked away, eyes sullen and stoic and closed off.  
  
“...I must train to keep my strength up.”  
  
Ike had to be careful around Soren, now, as much as he hated to admit it. He was only doing this to stay alive - he hated that too. He hated swearing a vow to protect someone, when he didn’t fully mean it.   
  
_I’ll protect him from his mad father, and I suppose I must from the Crimeans that are here, but other then that...  
  
_ Especially if Elincia and the others came here - if he saw them, face to face - there was no way he could protect Soren against them.  
  
 _...What face would Soren make if I betrayed him? Would it be as devastated as the one in my dream…?_   
  
Ike didn’t like thinking of it. Not at all.  
  
“I can lead you to the training grounds.” Soren said smoothly, standing up. “You can train there, if it is something you feel the need to do.  
  
Ike grinded his teeth slightly, but nodded.   
  
“...If that’s what you want, Prince Soren.” He said, for the third time. It was easier to say, and the safest thing to say.   
  
For a moment, just a moment, Soren’s eyes flashed with a mix of sorrow and frustration, but just as quickly, that look disappeared, and the same cautious, guarded red gaze Ike had come to know so well so quickly returned.  
  
“...Very well. It would please me to know that you are in shape.”  
  
Soren dusted off a tome, holding it to his chest, and leading Ike out of the room. The halls of this castle were quiet, somber. It might have been Elincia’s birthright at one point, but Ashnard had made it his own.   
  
_Ashnard…  
  
_ It surprised him that Soren had not gone to speak with him after everything that had happened this morning. He now had a retainer, someone sworn to protect him. But Ashnard hadn’t seemed very interested in his son, nor in Ike, except for who his father was. Maybe Soren didn’t think it was worth it to talk to him about such a thing.  
  
 _I wouldn’t blame him for not going near the king ever again.  
  
_ A new thought rose in Ike’s head, as they walked these darkened halls. One he had thought before, but one he wouldn’t give the time of day, as it clashed with his view of Daein as evil. He swallowed, before speaking up.  
  
“...Why do you serve your father, my prince?”  
  
The formality was let out through gritted teeth, but he said it nevertheless. He would have to get used to it, and suck up his pride to stay alive. For his sister. For Elincia. And Titania, too...all the Mercenaries.  
  
Soren paused, and Ike halted in his walk as well, staying quiet and still as they waited for a response. Finally, Soren turned, tilting his head.  
  
“...Why are you asking, Ike?”  
  
Ike didn’t know what was safe to say, exactly. But he’d had to ask in the first place...one risk wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully.   
  
“...He tried to kill you.” Ike reminded him. “...Using me, of course. But it seems it was his goal. Why else set up a duel between us? And...he didn’t seem happy that the Black Knight saved your life.”   
  
Soren met his eyes for a moment, than glanced away. He squeezed his tome a little tighter, as if he was clutching it for comfort as a child might with a stuffed doll.  
  
“...Why would that matter?”  
  
Ike hadn’t been expecting that response. He blinked. How could it not matter?   
  
“...Besides, killing me was not King Ashnard’s goal.” Soren shook his head. “He only wishes for me to be stronger.”   
  
Ike snorted at that, unable to stop himself. Soren glanced up at him, frowning.   
  
“...He hurt you, and threatened you.” Ike continued. “...Does he do that often? Hurt you?”   
  
Soren stayed silent a few moments, eyes wary and withdrawn. “...I’m sure your father hurt you as well. To make you stronger.”   
  
_What?_   
  
That wasn’t what he expected to hear, yet again. Soren was full of surprises. He liked and didn’t like it at the same time. Irritating.   
  
“...Not on purpose...I mean, sometimes during sparring, but - “   
  
“...It’s the same thing.”   
  
Ike worried at his lip - he knew it wasn’t the same thing at all. There was a world of difference between a few bruises and cuts he got from sparring with his father, and what Ashnard had put Soren through, using Ike as the weapon.   
  
_...Of course, I’m to blame, too. If I had not fought so desperately, Soren wouldn’t have been hurt. But I’m not blind. Ashnard wanted him hurt._   
  
“Why are you asking this, Ike?” Soren finally spoke up, voice a little louder and firmer than before. “What do you care what King Ashnard does?”   
  
Ike didn’t know, exactly, why. It just unsettled him so greatly. But there were some words that could raise the relevance to Soren.   
  
“...I’m sworn to protect you, now.” He said slowly. “...And that includes from the King. If need be.”   
  
Silence filled the hall. The wind whistled through it, ruffling Soren and Ike’s hair in its breeze. Soren’s eyes were wide, again surprised.   
  
Why is he so surprised? The Black Knight - surely he’s been at least trying to protect him too. Or at least keep him from the worst of it all.  
  
“...You should not say such things where people can hear.” Soren broke the silence, curtly. “...You are not used to life at court. But you must not speak your mind like that, Ike.”  
  
Ike furrowed his eyebrows, his head beginning to hurt.   
  
“...I only spoke what would be an obvious assumption.” He murmured. _To anyone besides you, at least.  
  
_ Soren fell quiet, shaking his head. Than he began to walk, and Ike was obligated to follow him, yet he found his head again troubled.  
  
He should have been troubled by how the company was faring in his absence. If they were even alive. And those worries did also fill his head, but perhaps because there was no immediate reminder of such danger, his thoughts drifted to the darkness at the heart of the Daein royal family.  
  
 _There are whispers that Soren is a bastard. That Ashnard bedded some serving girl, then set her head on a spike for amusement, and kept Soren only as a reminder of their encounter. There are rumors that he’s the son of a laguz, too, but...that’s impossible, right? I’ve never heard of laguz and beorc having children…surely I would have heard in Gallia.  
  
_ Soren said his mother was a Princess, though. But whoever she was, she clearly wasn’t here. Soren had only mentioned her when Ike had asked. Other than that, it was clear Ashnard had a higher priority in his life, or at least more focus.   
  
He was a Mad King. Perhaps that was justified.  
  
...Mad, everyone called him, but Soren seemed to passively accept his insanity, even when he himself was the target of it. Ike didn’t understand it. Ashnard was evil, anyone could see that. Soren was the sole heir, and if he orchestrated a coup, surely he would have a great deal of support. Or he should.  
  
_I don’t know Soren very well, yet, but I know he’s at least mentally capable to run a country. He’s a genius, and a deadly mage. A brilliant tactician.  
  
_ He should have a lot of support...but maybe he didn’t, for some reason. Soren _had_ to want to rebel, right? He must. He’d hesitated so greatly when Ike had asked him his thoughts on the war. Ike bit at his lip.  
  
 _...Maybe he is a bastard. But it’s kind of hard to believe that Ashnard could have gotten a princess with child out of marriage…  
  
_ His head hurt. They finally reached the outer training yard - recruits were doing their drills, with generals overseeing them. Ike suddenly found his thoughts replaced by a strong out of place feeling. He didn’t belong behind castle walls, doing drills with soldiers older and younger than him. He wasn’t Titania. He wasn’t...apparently, his father.  
  
 _Titania must have practiced in this very yard, when she was a Crimean knight. Now, it’s occupied by Daein.  
  
_ Daein soldiers Ike himself had fought against. He shuffled his feet, awkward.  
  
“...You may train here whenever you wish.” Soren called to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “...Pay the recruits no mind. They may scorn you for being Crimean, and for fighting on their side for a time. Ignore them. Close your ears to such noise, and focus on the song of you blade instead.”   
  
Soren sounded like he had a lot of experience closing his ears. Ike did, too. Often he would focus on the crashing and scraping of his sword against whatever target was before him, listening to that over Shinon’s sneers or Boyd’s jeers. Sometimes even over his father’s goading and taunts when they sparred.   
  
He found himself regretting that he’d ever blocked out his father’s voice with the song of his blade, now.  
  
Bracing himself, he took a training blade, heading over to a dummy to train. When he trained, Ike could let it all out, let his mind go blank, and let his body do all the work. With a sword in his hand, he felt alive, felt in control, felt able to protect those he loved and himself. Even training, it was effective in making him feel better than ever.  
  
He focused on that, and didn’t think about Soren, or his father, or anything. Just the song of his blade, as Soren had put it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sadly don't really have much to say about this chapter - I'm rather sick, at the moment, which is why it's taken a while for me to post it. But maybe that's for the best, anyway, since this chapter is supposed to be more of a breather after the chaotic duel of the last chapter. Still, thank you for all feedback, I really do appreciate it. I think to make up for the bit of a longer wait in between chapter, I'll post the next one sooner, so if this one is a bit too calm or uneventful for you, you won't have to wait too long.
> 
> I hope Ike's choice - and conflict - in serving Soren also comes across as rational. I tried to add the detail that not only is he uncertain about serving his enemy, he's uncertain both about leaving him defenseless with a mad father, and with having to make an oath to someone he's not fully loyal to. I shouldn't have to do much explaining, here, since I hope the text does get it across fine enough.


	5. Innocence

Ike was talented. But Soren had already known that, of course. He knew firsthand how skilled Ike was with a sword. The scars on his body proved that. He stood above the yard, on one of the upper pathways, leaning over a railing and observing.  
  
Watching Ike train, watching him do what Soren assumed were his own typical drills, he found himself transfixed.  
  
_He has the same style as Zelgius.  
  
_ Well, they’d had the same teacher. He supposed that was natural. Still, if Ike ever did fight the knight he despised so much, he would hate that fact. Or at least, Soren thought so.  
  
The thought of Zelgius and Ike fighting gave him pause - he didn’t like the image at all, not one bit. He resolved to try and keep them apart, to keep it from happening. With Zelgius’ damned obsession with besting his mentor, and with Ike’s desire for vengeance and apparent resemblance to his father…  
  
_Dammit, I won’t let it happen.  
  
_ He’d order Ike, if he had to. He wasn’t sure he’d listen, though. It might be smarter to order Zelgius, but he wasn’t sure he would listen, either.  
  
_...I’ll stop them myself, if I must, if the time ever comes.  
  
_ He prayed to a goddess that he didn’t believe in that the day never would. Shaking his head, he tried to distract himself from such terrible and irritating thoughts.  
  
Most of the soldiers or generals ignored him - that was to be expected, given what he was. He’d been to the courts of Crimea and Begnion, before - apparently, there, the lower classes revered and flattered the royalty, lying through their teeth with complements to try and gain favours. It had been so bizarre, being in Crimea and being praised left and right. In Begnion, it’d been stranger by tenfold, given the tensions he knew existed between Daein and Begnion.  
  
He’d only been a child, but he’d known they were lying. No one would praise him in such a way unless they wanted something from him. His father had taught him that much, and for as cruel and mad as his father was, he did have some sense. You didn’t govern a kingdom for almost twenty years and keep it prosperous if you didn’t have any sense.  
  
_I am a bastard Branded. No one would praise me.  
  
_ And at the Daein court, no one ever did, save for a handful of exceptions - Zelgius, of course, which was easily explainable. But the other was a bit stranger. One of his father’s tacticans, Ena, would sometimes praise him in a way that seemed remarkably genuine. The fact that she was laguz threw off Soren even more. It was strange…  
  
He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking of that. He should be focusing on Ike, on how he was training. Slowly, he descended down to the yard itself, holding his tome close as he went to Ike’s side.   
  
_What should I say?_ _  
_ _  
_ Ike’s words in the hallway still troubled him. He would seriously get in between him and his father, if his father was harming him. Did Ike mean that, or was that baseless flattery? Why had he spoken so feverantly?   
  
_...I don’t understand you, Ike.  
  
_ But then again, he never had.  
  
“You seem keenly focused, Ike.” He spoke up, and Ike whirled around. His eyes were full of surprise, before they faded back to a stoic and usual dark gaze.  
  
_Of course.  
  
_ Soren hated this look, but it wasn’t like he could complain about it. Goddess, with Ike here, at his side, and alive, he didn’t have the right to complain about anything.  
  
“...Prince Soren.” Ike said shortly. “...I...yes. I haven’t gotten the chance to train in a while. Since I was being held captive…”   
  
“Ah, I see.” _Of course, of course. You fool, did you think Ike would forget that? Just because he said he’d fight a mad king for you?_ _  
_ _  
_ “I apologize for that.” Soren glanced away. “But know you can train all you like, now. You are my blade, and my blade must be sharp and ready.”   
  
“...As you say, Prince Soren.” Ike said stiffly.   
  
Soren hated when Ike spoke like that, too - it reminded him of how people spoke to his father. Stiff, detached - it was usually a sign of fear. That any disrespect would lead to punishment. In his father’s case, usually death.  
  
_I won’t hurt you, Ike. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.  
  
_ During their forced duel, he couldn’t bring himself to harm Ike even a fraction of how he truly could. How could he, when his own life was worth so little, and Ike’s so much? Ike was responsible for the first true kindness of his life. He couldn’t have hurt him.  
  
_I can’t.  
  
_ But what were the odds Ike would believe that?   
  
_If you truly cared for him, you stupid Branded boy, you’d find a way to let him return to his precious family, not keep him here under a farce of loyalty and retainership. You’re such a selfish little abomination.  
  
_ Soren tensed at the intrusive thoughts clawing in his skull cruelly - it wasn’t true, it wasn’t. If he tried to get Ike back to his family, Ike would die in the process. He would. It was too risky. It was better to keep him here!   
  
_Better to keep him here with a mad king, who hates his father?_ _  
_ _  
_ “...Is there something wrong, my Prince?” Ike’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he looked up, jolting. “...You just...you look pretty pale...and you’re gripping your wrist hard enough that I’m afraid it might break…”   
  
Soren glanced down to see that Ike was right - he’d been gripping his wrist without fully realizing. He exhaled, and forced himself to let go. Weakness.   
  
“...I’m fine. You need not worry.” He spoke softly. “...You seem to enjoy training, Ike.”   
  
Soren would normally never attempt small talk like this, but he needed some sort of anchor to keep him from spiraling again. He could tell Ike was surprised at his attempts at conversation, but like a loyal retainer, he answered anyway.  
  
“...Like I said before. Training keeps you sharp. In shape. I...have to stay strong, and get stronger. It’s very important to me."   
  
Soren was afraid to ask why exactly. He simply swallowed, glancing away, words falling from his mouth without him really realizing.   
  
“...I always hated training. Fighting wise, anyway. I rather enjoy training my mind to become sharper. But my body…”  
  
He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry.   
  
“...It is less made for what physical training helps with.” He finished. Oh, he knew he was a powerful mage - but that was never enough for his father. Not at all.  
  
_He pushed me so hard I’m surprised I’m alive.  
  
_ Ike clearly was at a loss of what to say. Than he cleared his throat, hand on the hilt on his sword.   
  
“...What do you like to do, than?” He asked, perhaps out of a flare of pity. Soren looked up, surprised. “You said you like studying, but…”   
  
“...I do. Studying is important - knowledge, especially when it comes to tactics, is essential. But in other areas, too…” He shook his head. “If I am to inherit the crown, I must be adept in many aspects.”   
  
“Ah, I see…” Ike seemed to have a question on the tip of his tongue, but he held it, instead asking a rather innocuous question. “Anything else?”   
  
Soren thought about it for a bit. Truth be told, he had such little chance to do other things besides study and train.  
  
“...Riding my wyvern.” He finally said, “...atop my wyvern, I can see the world, and yet I am apart from it as well. It’s...liberating.”   
  
For the first time in a while, Ike cracked just a slight smile, and Soren found himself entranced by something so simple.   
  
“It was kind of terrifying when I was on it,” Ike admitted. “But I can see how it would be liberating, too. Like being a bird, in a way. I’ve always liked birds.”   
  
“...Birds?” Soren noted that fact, quickly. “...Why birds?”   
  
“...They live freely, without anyone to cage them. They can...go wherever they want, anytime they want. That sounds like a pretty nice life to me.”  
  
_A bird...Ike wants to live free like a bird.  
  
_ But he was keeping him chained here. Chained in a castle -  
  
_...It’s for his safety! This is war! I can’t afford to be idealistic about these things!_ _  
_ _  
_ “I-I see.”   
  
Soren didn’t usually stutter. Ike didn’t know him well at all, but he knew him well enough at this point to know that. He frowned, watching as again Soren gripped his wrist painfully.  
  
“I don’t know if I’ll ever really get used to being on an animal like that.” Ike murmured softly, “...but maybe I could learn to enjoy it a little more. Like I said, it seems it could be liberating.”   
  
_Ah…  
  
_ Soren glanced up at Ike, eyes slightly glazed. He was so tired...it hit him suddenly, waves of exhaustion that threatening to drown him. But Ike...Ike…  
  
_Ike is worth staying upright for.  
  
_ He cleared his throat, ignoring the brief flash of concern he saw in Ike’s gaze, and glancing aside. The training yard was mostly empty, now. Whistles of wind were the loudest noise that went through it at this point.  
  
_...The warm winds of Crimea.  
  
_ Soren liked it not at all - Soren might have been a child in Gallia, but his body was more used to the cold of the north, to snow, to ice.  
  
_...Some say my heart is ice. I wonder if such a thing is true.  
  
_ He wondered, probably in vain, if his father would send him back to Daein. Certainly not if he asked. But he’d rather be there than here, in some conquered castle, and Ike would like it better, too. He’d be safer…  
  
_I just want you to be safe, Ike.  
  
_ “...My prince,” Ike started carefully, and Soren turned to look at him. Sometimes he found it funny how he reacted instinctively to the title of Prince, when he hadn’t been one for even half his life.  
  
“You seem exhausted.” Ike finally said. “...Are your injuries still bothering you?”   
  
“What?”   
  
Soren hadn’t been expecting Ike to mention that - the injuries he’d inflicted on him, nearly killing him had Zelgius not intervened.   
  
_How does Ike feel about that, I wonder?_ _  
_ _  
_ He swallowed. It was true, he’d been healed, but the ghost of his wounds still ached and hurt. It had been a near death experience. Staves alone couldn’t fix it. Not completely. Especially not when Ike was such a skilled swordsman. Unrefined. But skilled.  
  
Soren hadn’t been trying his best in that duel, he had to admit. He’d put on enough of a show to fool his father, but not enough that he had any shot at actually killing Ike. Goddess, no. Even if he had been trying relentlessly to kill Ike...he doubted that he could come even close. Ike was strong…  
  
“...I shouldn’t have done that.” Ike admitted, voice quieter than usual, enough that it caught Soren’s attention, snapped him out of his thoughts. “...Injured you, I mean.”   
  
Soren stared at him in disbelief. “...You were a prisoner. You didn’t have a choice.” That much was obvious - Ashnard would have had his head for such defiance. Or maybe he would have knighted him. Soren often didn’t know how exactly to predict his father’s actions.  
  
“Sure I had a choice.” Ike shook his head. “I could have turned my blade on the King instead. I could have tossed it aside. Instead, I nearly killed you.”   
  
_How can you be thinking this way…?_ _  
_ _  
_ No, this was Ike. The same boy that would feed a starving Branded abomination. The same boy that had promised to protect an enemy. Of course he would think this way.  
  
It frustrated Soren. He didn’t like the idea of Ike being ridden with guilt or regret on his behalf.  
  
“...That is a foolish thing to regret. You wanted to go home. To return to your family.” Soren didn’t value such things, but surely Ike had. “I was an enemy to you, as well. You had no reason not to strike me down.”   
  
“But - “   
  
“There’s no objection to be made.” Soren cut him off. “...Forget it, Ike. It doesn’t matter anymore.”   
  
“How can it not matter when you’re still hurting from it?” Ike sounded incredulous.  
  
“I won’t be, soon.” Soren argued, eyes flaring. “Forget about it, Ike. That is an order.”   
  
Ike scowled, looking like he might contradict him, order or not, but he didn’t - he merely stared at him with that frustrated, fiery blue gaze.   
  
_Such astonishing eyes.  
  
_ “...Very well, my prince. If that is your wish.”  
  
Ike’s voice was cold. Chilled. Frosted with the blood of the Daein north. Soren swallowed, watching as Ike turned and went back to his drills, and he didn’t move to interrupt him again.  
  
_...Ike...you are so kind.  
  
_ Soren knew he himself could never be kind. He could never embody the compassion that Ike did for him. Even now, after he’d threatened his life into a contract. After they’d nearly killed each other...he still showed him sympathy.  
  
It was plain if it hadn’t been before that he hadn’t made an mistake in dedicating himself to Ike. _I doubt I would think bringing him here a mistake even if we’d never met as children.  
  
_ Watching Ike hack and slash - it was so very clear he was a strong ally to have. All that remained to see was if he was a trustworthy one. Ike had been frank about him only serving Soren for pragmatic reasons; he wanted to live to see his family again. Small wonder, when they had already lost a father in their family. He’d want to stay alive for whoever remained.  
  
Soren wondered if he would pick him up on a horse and kidnap him to Gallia, to give to the king there as a hostage. He wondered if the king would even acknowledge Soren’s presence, given his blood, if he were to do that.  
  
Yet somehow, he simply found himself doubting that Ike would do that. His eyes...they were cold, like ice pools from the north, but they were sincere. He trusted him.  
  
Soren watched as Ike sliced off the training dummy’s head, with unrestrained swordsmanship, tensing without realizing.  
  
_...I can only hope that is a wise decision. Pray that I am not letting my heart get the best of me. This heart that the commons say pumps ice instead of blood.  
  
_ \--   
  
Crimea’s castle, one that Ike should have been in awe to see, was so cold with Daein men in it’s halls.  
  
Days had passed, and soon weeks, and slowly Ike had just begun to perhaps get used to this life. In a strange way, it wasn’t so different from his old life, back at his mercenary camp. At first he’d disdained the Daein soldiers he came across, or who approached him, but as he saw more and more of them, he began to realize they were just people, like how there were people everywhere else.  
  
Some of them were cruel - General Petrine, the woman who had nearly cornered them only to be stopped by laguz, was vicious towards him and merciless in the training yard when they sparred - but she would also always obey Soren whenever he called on her to cease or stop making cruel remarks at Ike.  
  
There were others, too - simple soldiers that had no real concept of this war. To his surprise, many of them justified it.  
  
“All we have in Daein is hunting food,” one of the soldiers informed him, “and yet, here, there’s fertile land all around. This territory will certainly save our lives, and it’s our right, since Crimea couldn’t defend itself.”   
  
Ike narrowed his eyes, displeased with the random recruit. “The King and his brother fought valiantly and bravely, I heard. And his daughter is fighting even still.”  
  
“You really are Crimean, to believe such, Ike.” The soldier chastised him. “In Daein, we are taught that the strong have their due. The King of Crimea was just made king because he was born into it. He wasn’t fit to rule like he did. That’s why he failed.”   
  
_Because Ashnard launched a cowardly attack.  
  
_ “Besides, that daughter of his never did nothing for no one. None of the Crimeans even knew she existed.” The soldier shook their head. “Prince Soren, meanwhile, might have that mark on his forehead, but he works day and night for Daein. That’s enough for a lot of us, really.”   
  
_Mark?_ _  
_ _  
_ Ike had heard a few people mention Soren’s mark - the birthmark that was bright and plain to see on his forehead. He didn’t get why so many people mentioned it disparagingly.  
  
_Or why they’re mentioning Elincia disparagingly. Hasn’t she been through enough!?  
  
_ He glared, dangerously, hand at the sword on his belt - when suddenly, he heard a voice from above.   
  
“Ike. I have need of you.” Soren called, up on the stairway above the training grounds. He looked tired. And displeased.  
  
_Wonderful.  
  
_ He still couldn’t believe he had guard duty over the prince of Daein, but it could be much worse - he could be guarding his father. He shuddered at the thought, glaring at the recruit before heading up the stairs.  
  
Soren was still a mystery to him, and one that wasn’t even seeming close to being resolved. The boy’s eyes betrayed nothing, and his orders were always curt and to the point. Most of the time, he was in meetings with his father, with other tacticans, or captains. Ike would often have to stand guard over him, trying to listen and keep up with what they were saying, but often finding himself dozing a little after hours passed.   
  
_I don’t know how Soren keeps it up. He must be exhausted.  
  
_ Ike was exhausted, too, but at least Soren gave him free time, on occasion. Sometimes he’d have quite a few hours to himself. Soren himself rarely ever took breaks.   
  
_...Maybe that recruit has a point,_ Ike wondered, at Soren’s side. _Soren does work hard. Maybe too hard…  
  
_ “You are as vigilant as ever, Ike.” Soren spoke, softly. Ike frowned. When they were alone together, mostly all Soren said was compliments like that. They didn’t ever really talk. Soren was far too busy working, especially now that his injuries from their battle had nearly healed.  
  
“...What is it you need, my prince?”   
  
Soren turned, beckoning Ike to follow. He did so, hand on the hilt of his sword as he followed him down the halls. He was getting used to this life. But not enough to be fully comfortable.  
  
_I can’t, anyway. I have to get back to my group, soon. My family…I will never adapt to this life. Not without them. I can't let myself.  
  
_ Soren led him into a planning room. A few grizzled lords, Ike suspected, were in there, talking around the table. Ike didn’t know their names. He didn’t care to, either - though, he did know most of them had only been made lords after a show of strength to the King. None of them were noble by blood.   
  
Daein was truly strange.   
  
“Ah, Prince Soren.” One of them turned to Soren as he walked in, the other’s gazes quickly following. Soren lifted his head, proudly.   
  
“And his retainer, as well. Ike, it was.”   
  
Ike nodded at his name, leaning against the wall, eyes careful and hand at the ready. If any of them tried anything to hurt Soren...well, he’d be ready.   
  
“Prince Soren. Your father wishes for you to return to the capitol.” The lords continued, and Soren raised an eyebrow.   
  
“I see...so he is sending me back to Nevassa.” Soren murmured, and Ike tensed, a little. “...He could not tell me this himself?”   
  
“The King is busying himself in his research.”   
  
“...Over the medallion, I presume.” Soren scoffed, and Ike felt himself tense further. _A medallion…?_ _  
_ _  
_ “Did he say when I should leave?”   
  
One of the lords handed him a piece of paper, and Soren scanned his eyes over it, “...Immediately, then. Very well.”   
  
Ike could tell Soren was displeased with the hasty departure, but he seemed to believe it was genuine, at least. Soren rolled up the scroll, before turning to Ike.   
  
“...You heard them, Ike. We are to leave with a small force immediately, heading back to Nevassa.”   
  
Ike swallowed, troubled. He’d never seen the Daein capitol...never even been on Daein soil. But his father had...so long ago. He had to accept that at this point.   
  
The lords went back to discussing the war effort, and Soren left the room with Ike. Ike paused, before speaking up as he followed.   
  
“...I am surprised your father did not speak to you personally.”   
  
“I am not.” Soren huffed. “And I am gladder for it. I would rather not have a repeat of the last time we went to his throne room, Ike.”   
  
Ike tilted his head - but he found himself agreeing. With how mad the King was, it was better to keep him away from Soren. Soren would be safer that way. Besides, Ashnard seemed to regard Soren so poorly, it wasn’t surprising that he was sending him away without a fond word.   
  
_It’s better this way.  
  
_ Soren began packing, and Ike began feeling just a bit anxious again. Going to Daein...going to their capitol...he almost felt like a traitor, like this. A traitor to his sister, and to Elincia…  
  
But he wasn’t on the front lines, at least; Nevassa, from what he knew, was far from the brunt of the war. Mostly all they had to worry about around there was bandits and the like, not any Crimean rebels or soldiers. It might actually be less treasonous for him to be there. Less chance of him spilling Crimean blood.  
  
“...Ike. You may pack as well.” Soren pointed out to him, knocking Soren out of his reverie. “You have been given several changes of clothes, yes? I did order it.”   
  
“I have, my prince.” He nodded in response.   
  
“...We will need to get you warmer clothes. You may have Daein blood, but you have never been there. It’s quite frigid, as I’m sure you have heard at this point.”   
  
“...If that is what you wish, my prince.”   
  
Soren scowled, seeming displeased, and Ike turned and headed to the barracks to quickly pack. He doubted Soren would snap at him, but he did seem high strung, like he was about to break, and Ike would rather not be there if he was going to finally snap - he really did work so hard.   
  
_...He’s working hard for Daein. For his country.  
  
_ It really did remind him of Elincia. But, like that recruit had said, Soren had been working this hard for most of his life. And having to deal with Ashnard…  
  
Ike’s head hurt again. He shook his head, bringing his pack of clothes out to the wagons, prepared for Soren’s departure.  
  
He froze when he glanced over, noticing Soren petting his white wyvern, tensing. _Oh. He’ll want to ride that again…  
  
_ Ike could still remember the flight he’d had on the beast - he couldn’t fully get why Soren thought it was liberating. It was on Soren’s flights that Ike himself got the most free time, since he did not want to ride a wyvern for as long as he lived again. Dreaming of himself being able to fly like a bird was one thing - being pulled around on some beast with a mind of its own was another entirely.  
  
Soren noticed his stare, and walked over him, the wyvern yawning behind him and stretching his wings.   
  
“...I am sure you realize...I would prefer to ride my beast. It will allow me a bird’s eye view,” he explained, and Ike nodded tentatively, unsure.   
  
“...I’ve been given a small force to escort me to Nevassa,” Soren went on, “...and I want you to lead it from the ground, Ike.”   
  
Ike stared at him, unsure that he had heard right. _What…?_ _  
_ _  
_ “...My prince...are you certain…?”   
  
“Of course I am. There will be a map, and others to help you. There are a few Daein soldiers that dislike you, but most of them seem to admire you fine enough.” Soren spoke so casually, unaware that Ike’s head was spinning. “I am sure you will be fine, Ike.”   
  
_Other Daein soldiers isn’t what worries me about this.  
  
_ It was than that he realized - this was a test of trust. Soren was giving him a horse and the charge of command of a Daein force. Granted, the chances were next to none that they would run into Crimean soldiers, but what if they did? Wasn’t Soren concerned Ike would betray him?   
  
Soren didn’t seem concerned, though. He was staring at him, waiting for a response. Ike didn’t know what to say.   
  
_I’ve only been serving you for a few weeks, Soren...how can you trust me with something like this?_ _  
_ _  
_ Everything he’d heard about Soren suggested that he was cold, calculating, pragmatic and cruel. Someone cunning and intelligent beyond Crimea’s own forces. Yet again and again, Soren kept proving that wrong. _What kind of pragmatic, cautious prince trusts someone who tried to kill them like this?_ _  
_ _  
_ Still, Ike now almost felt obligated to obey. Slowly, he nodded, taking the map.   
  
“...Very well, my prince.” He said simply. It was all he could say. His eyes ran over the map, Soren pointed out a few places.   
  
“It’s a long march to Nevassa. We’ll have to stop for camp a few times. I could ride the entire way on my wyvern, but I would rather be able to keep an eye on bandits and the like. If we run into them, or slavers, I want to be there to ascertain victory.”   
  
Ike nodded, slowly, still bewildered, but less so now.   
  
_He isn’t trusting me entirely - but still, giving me hours on a horse, in command of a group of Daein soldiers...it’s definitely out of the ordinary. It's definitely something I can't understand.  
  
_ “Good. Let’s go than, Ike.”   
  
Soren took to the skies so easily on his wyvern, Ike feeling a little sick just watching. How could Soren be so sure of his safety? Ike barely was able to trust a horse…   
  
He sighed, turning to the Daein soldiers he’d been left with. Right. He was in command. It would be fine - it’d be just like when he was in command of the mercenaries.   
  
_Except, I don’t have Titania here to guide me.  
  
_ Soren really was placing an awful lot of trust in him…   
  
“...Soldiers. The prince is placing a lot of trust in us all.” He called to the crowd, most of them listening despite knowing who Ike was. “...We must ride to meet him. The prince will scout ahead, checking for threats, and warn us if he sees any. The trip to Nevassa will likely take a few days, and we will have a few stops. There is a threat of brigands and slavers...but it is low. Still, stay vigilant.”   
  
That was fine, wasn’t it? He thought it might sound a little awkward, but the soldiers went and started marching anyway, despite his relative inexperience. It hit Ike that they might simply be happy to be being sent back from the front lines. That might explain it.   
  
He shook his head, climbing up on the horse that had been prepared for him, riding along the path detailed in the map. He could recognize Soren’s writing here - he really was smart, and quick. He barely had any notice of leaving, and yet he managed to write all this out…   
  
_He really is a genius. But...I knew that already.  
  
_ The first ride was relatively calm - he could hear the soldiers chatting behind him, but he ignored them. There were no threats...Soren would likely swoop down if there was one. It did start to get colder, though, but Ike ignored it as best he could. Soren had been right, though - he really would need warmer clothes.   
  
_I’ll be dressed in full Daein clothes and colours, likely._ _  
_ _  
_ He shuddered at the thought. He wondered what his father would think...of him being a bodyguard to Ashnard’s son, draped in the Daein colours and fabrics.  
  
_But Soren...he isn’t like his father.  
  
_ It was easy, really, to let his mind wander as he marched on. There really wasn't much else to do but think.  
  
_I thought Soren cruel and pragmatic, like all the stories said, but...even if he’s worked for his father, he still…  
  
_ Ashnard just seemed in this for his selfish gain - he didn’t care about Daein. He didn’t care about anything but violence, it seemed. Soren was different. He could tell Soren felt a duty to his country, whether it was entirely selfless or not.   
  
...Staying with Daein troops was starting to mess with his head. But the more time he spent with them, the more he really saw that they were just people. Some of them were cruel, but some of them were very capable of being kind. And then there was Soren, some mix between the two.   
  
_Have I been thinking of the Daein like how the beorc think of the laguz this whole time…?_ _  
_ _  
_ It troubled Ike to think this way, and yet...he couldn’t ignore his eyes. He’d called out the Crimeans’ prejudice against the laguz in the port town so strongly, but maybe he’d been behaving the same way to the Daein, thinking them all black hearted rogues who willingly served a mad king for unfettered ambition.   
  
_Even if Ashnard is mad and cruel, and even if the Black Knight is a heartless killer, that doesn’t mean...all of them simply want cruelty to reign free. They’re not all like that._ _  
_ _  
_ Maybe here, at the heart of this issue, of the heart of the whole reason for war, he could do more good. Maybe he could help end the war sooner, from within, with the Prince…   
  
The Prince...he had agreed to serve him, and had tried to be kind to him at times, but...he’d also kept himself so distant. _Distant despite the dreams I keep having, of him screaming my name in despair, with his blood on my blade._ _  
_ _  
_ He jolted, suddenly, feeling a brush of cold against his forehead - amazed, he stared up, seeing snow fall softly and carefully. _Ah…_ _  
_ _  
_ “Ah, Commander Ike.” One of the soldiers called, and he turned. “Haven’t you ever seen snow before? You grew up in Crimea, so maybe not.”   
  
“...I have seen it a few times.” He admitted, eyes wide. “But...it was rare. More often when I was a child, really.”   
  
“Heh, I figured as much.” The soldier nodded, “it’s pretty, though, isn’t it? It snows pretty often in Daein, so I imagine you might get sick of it before long.”   
  
“...I suppose…” Ike mumbled, looking up at the flakes. He couldn't really imagine getting sick of this...it really was something to see. Mist would truly like snow, he thought. She'd want to play in it...  
  
The soldier seemed amused by his awe, chuckling. A conversation like that...he’d had heated conversations with Daein soldiers, but he’d also had more like that, more that were just...normal conversations.   
  
_They really are just normal people. Huh.  
  
_ Ike swallowed, and pushed on despite the snow. They’d have to meet with Soren soon, after all. He might even be waiting at the marked spot for camp, in the cold and snow…   
  
Ike didn’t like that thought. So they’d better hurry up, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daein: Daein has always been a fascinating country and area of Tellius for me - their beliefs are so unique and different. If I must be honest, I'm not fond of the overt and explicitly worse racism given to Daein in PoR - it really just seems like a plot device to make them seem more 'evil.' It seems logical to me that, under Ashnard's rule for quite a long time, they would at least become more open to Laguz, and it seems like it's just given to them to make sure Ike won't join them or see their side of the argument. I'm not sure how much I will include Daein's racism, because of this. On the one hand, I don't want to whitewash - but on the other, I really think this is lazy, bad writing in PoR, and what is the purpose of fanfic if not to fix canon?
> 
> Unreliable Narration: Both Ike and Soren, I'm sure people have noticed, tend to have blind spots in their narration - Soren is more apt to think poorly of himself, for example, while Ike - who's more neutral - sees that there are Daeins that appreciate his efforts and struggles. Ike is starting to not let his biases affect his narration, as he tries to see past them, but of course that's a slow process. That's part of the reason I wanted alternating POVs for this, to cover their blind spots in their natural perception.


	6. Boiling

  
“...So, you have sent the prince away, as soon as you called for my return.”   
  
The Black Knight’s voice was harsh, and obviously displeased. He wondered if Ashnard was purposefully trying to anger him, to goad him. He wouldn’t be surprised - the man was mad.   
  
_I must stay vigilant. For this to go according to plan…_

 

It was no wonder Sephiran had warned him against getting close to the boy - other than Gawain, Soren was the only chink in his armour. The only thing or person that could distract him from his goals.   
  
_And now Gawain is dead. His son remains, but…_ _  
_ _  
_ Goddess, just imagining Soren’s face if he accidentally killed the boy was crushing, even now, even like this. He had practically helped raise Soren - since Ashnard was not likely to do it properly. Not that he had thought he could do well either, but…   
  
“You are my Rider, last I heard.” Ashnard’s voice was cold, and the Black Knight tensed. “You do not belong to the boy. A boy who cannot even defend himself.”   
  
“...His name is Soren, Your Grace.” He didn’t like it when Ashnard referred to Soren so impassively - it was an insult. Soren had a name, after all. He didn’t wish to hear him demeaned in such a way.   
  
_Sephiran is right. I am soft._   
  
“I did not care to give him a name, I see not why I should use it.” Ashnard scoffed. “But, enough talk of worthless things. He did manage to get Gawain’s son to serve him.”   
  
“...I am not surprised. Your Grace. Mercenaries will always sacrifice morals for survival.”   
  
In actuality, he was - had Soren managed to convince him of their connection? Or something else...but Ike joining the Daein Prince…   
  
_...I hope you know what you are doing, Soren. It could be a trap…_

 

“I am surprised you have allowed this, however.” The Knight went on, cautiously. “...He could murder the prince in his sleep. Or he could even turn him against you.”  
  
The King let out a bark of laughter at that, and the Knight tensed.   
  
“Hah..turn him against me? Absurd. The boy knows as well as I do no one else will even look at him without wanting to end his life. He has nowhere else to go, thanks to that mark. No even his damned mother’s family will acknowledge him. He’s well aware of this.”   
  
The Knight felt a little ill, at that. But he knew it was true. He had always known it was true - knew it firsthand, really.

 

“Onto more important matters...you are certain, than, that Ike knew nothing of the Medallion his father stole?”  
  
“I am.” The Black Knight said shortly. “His father was bleeding to death in front of me. He would have spoken up if he knew what I was talking of. I think it more likely Gawain hid it in Gallia, perhaps. He did not have it on him at the time of my attack.”

 

“Hmph…”  
  
The King seemed displeased, and he himself was starting to feel anxious as well. The medallion had to be somewhere, surely...they would find it.   
  
“Is that all, Your Grace?”   
  
“...I suppose so. Carry on in your search, than. Do not disappoint me.”   
  
He nodded, relieved, leaving the throne room and giving a soft exhale. The King…   
  
_... I can’t think of it. I must simply do my duty._

 

For a moment, he stared down the hall, considering how similar in strange walls the halls of this castle were to Nevassa. Would that he could simply return there, or to Begnion - but Sephiran wanted him here. Soren...would have to take care of himself.  
  
_He has grown into a strong, capable, intelligent individual. The son of Gawain is a blind spot, but...I must simply pray it is not one that ends in your death._

 

But...what did it matter…? With what him and Sephiran were planning…

 

_The world showed  no compassion to any of us. At it’s core, it is cruel and unpleasant. Discriminatory and brutal._

  
Whether it was himself, being chased from home as a child, or Soren, being left to starve to death on the streets…  
  
_...Death is a release, at such a point…I do wonder if Gawain felt such, before he died_  
  
He shook his head, refusing to think of it further, turning and disappearing in a wave of magic. There were other duties he must attend to. Thinking of that would not help.  
  
\--  
  
Soren arrived at the spot he had marked for camp before the army, naturally. It was a clearing visible on the map, and easily visible from atop his wyvern. Still, despite arriving there safely, he paced the clearing restlessly, his wyvern looking at him in concern before he shooed her off to take to the skies again.  
  
_...Was I right, in giving Ike this chance?_ _  
_ _  
_ He wanted to trust Ike - he wanted to believe in the good in his heart, that he wouldn’t betray him this easily - but hadn’t Ike been so open about the fact that serving Soren was a means to an end?  
  
Ike just wanted to return to his family, but he also said things that made Soren wonder, contemplate, selfishly, arrogantly, that maybe he did care for him. Apologizing for hurting him, saying he would get in between him and his father…  
  
But why would he say those things if this was just a means to an end?  
  
Soren’s head hurt, and his chest ached, just slightly, thinking about it. Ike had trusted him to get him back to his family...now Soren simply had to have faith in him that he would do as he’d commanded, even if it seemed a hopeful outcome, and Soren crushed most hope he felt on instinct.  
  
It started to snow, and Soren gazed at the soft flakes, letting them dance over his fingertips since no one else was there. His skin...it was almost as pale as the snow itself. It was easy to remember when snow had been a threat to him. Something that could bring death to him so easily...chill him to the bone.  
  
That had all changed once Zelgius had brought him to Nevassa, though…  
  
The snowflakes caught in his hair, sparkling slightly. He probably should pull up his hood, but for a few more moments, it was a nostalgic feeling.  
  
_When I saw snow for the first time when I was truly safe...I was transfixed. I could look at it and feel it without feeling afraid. It was magical, in a strange way._

 

For a few moments, it’d be fine.  
  
“Ah - Soren…”  
  
His eyes flew open, and he turned, seeing Ike atop his horse poking out between the trees. The sounds of men weren’t far behind him, but it seemed he was a bit ahead.  
  
_...Ah...so he did come…_ _  
_ _  
_ Immediately, Soren relaxed, at least a little - he knew he shouldn’t get so accustomed, so trusting of Ike, but it was like an instinctive reaction -  
  
_He truly did listen...he meant at least some of what he said…_ _  
_ _  
_ Ike was staring at him in a strange way - almost the same way Soren had stared at snow for the first time. Transfixed and surprised. Soren huffed, wondering what such a look meant.  
  
“...Why are you looking at me like that?” He spoke haughtily, with the tone of a displeased prince, and Ike seemed to snap out of it, looking away sheepishly, face slightly red.  
  
_...What was that about…?_ _  
_ _  
_ “Um, I’m just...glad to see you’re alright, Soren. Ah, I mean my prince.” Ike spoke quickly, Soren shaking his head. _Perhaps the snow and cold is getting to his head._

 

He was about to speak up, asking if Ike was truly alright, when the rest of the soldiers finally caught up to them. Soren stared at him another moment, before beginning to ready themselves for camp.  
  
Daein tents were thick, to keep in heat, and thus they were heavy to lift - Soren couldn’t manage it easily, so he settled with setting up camping and cooking fires - he had plenty of experience with that.  
  
The snow was thin enough that most of the flakes that had settled on the ground, melted once they were finished setting up camp. Still, Soren knew the snows further into Daein proper wouldn’t be so easy to avoid.  
  
He set a few soldiers to have cooking duty, before heading to his own tent, finding Ike inside, waiting.  
  
“...Setting up tents in this kind of weather…” Ike started slowly, eyes meeting his. “It’s a bit harder than setting camp in Crimea and Gallia, huh…”  
  
“...It will only get harder. The snows closer to the capitol are quite harsh, even this time of year.” He narrowed his gaze. “But do not worry, Ike. The other soldiers are proficient in this.”  
  
“Right…”  
  
Soren stayed quiet a moment, surveying Ike’s features. “...You did well, Ike. Leading the forces here…”  
  
_I did half expect you to flee now that we have left the castle...but you stayed...despite everything Daein has done to you._ _  
_ _  
_ “...It wasn’t anything I haven’t done before…” Ike started, slowly. Soren hesitated, before sitting on the makeshift bed in the tent, curious.  
  
“...You were the Commander of the Princess’ forces.” He spoke softly, “at such a young age, as well.”  
  
Ike huffed. “...You are the head tactician of Daein, and even younger than me, so maybe it isn’t strange at all.”  
  
_Ah, this is a point of pride._ _  
_ _  
_ “...There are many young leaders in this war. Empress Sanaki of Begnion is younger than us both - she is only ten, last I heard.”  
  
“...A ten year old as an Empress…?” Ike seemed skeptical of that. Soren couldn’t blame him. “...I don’t think a child should be in charge of such things…”  
  
“...Are you unaware of how Begnion is run?” Soren asked, turning to him. Ike shook his head, and Soren closed his eyes. “Their Empress is said to be the voice of the goddess herself. A vessel for her divine will. She is assisted by a group of nobles that make up the Senate.”  
  
Ike stared at him a moment, than snorted.  
  
“Assisted, huh. If she’s only ten, I doubt that’s really all they’re doing.”  
  
Soren nodded. “...Of course, it’s all a farce. A means for the nobles to take power, while seeming to have a divine blessing. I doubt it is the girl’s fault, however. She is simply a child.”  
  
Ike’s nose wrinkled, and Soren wondered what he was thinking. Still, Ike was smart to realize the lies of Begnion so quickly.  
  
_Perhaps a sword is not all he is good with._

 

“It doesn’t sound like a pleasant place…”  
  
“I haven’t been there recently, but from what I hear, it is not. Unfortunately, we will likely have to go there eventually...the Princess was heading there, was she not?”  
  
Ike tensed, and Soren could see the conflict in his eyes. Of course, he still didn’t want to betray those he saw as family. And not a princess he had sworn to serve. _Of his own free will, in comparison to myself._

 

“You confirming such will not be a betrayal, Ike. We know this already.”  
  
“...As you say, my prince.”  
  
Soren sighed. Whenever Ike said that, it was like the spark of life left his eyes. It disquieted him, and reminded him of how much Ike must dislike this and him both.  
  
_And yet, he’s stayed this long. He’s stayed at my side, obeyed my commands, promised to serve me. I suppose he truly is just forcing himself to reunite with his family._ _  
_ _  
_ Away from his father’s eyes, Soren could let him go - but that would be tantamount to letting Ike die. He wouldn’t be safe, out in the wild, alone. Not during a war. Not in a place he had never been in his life before.  
  
Soren’s gaze fell, and conversation with it. Ike seemed deep in thought himself, thumb running over the hilt of his blade absently and eyebrows furrowed.  
  
He couldn’t help watching him for a time, especially since Ike seemed too distracted to even notice his stares. Snow had melted in his azure colour hair, making it slightly damp, almost as if he’d come from the baths. For someone so strong, he had soft features - not as soft as Soren’s own, but…  
  
_His hair seems like it would be soft. And his eyes can be soft too, if only briefly on occasion._

 

Ike seemed a stoic, duty bound knight, but Soren knew there was radiant blue fire in his veins, enough that it could burn him to ashes if he wasn’t careful.  
  
_Ike…_

 

Ike glanced up at him, seeming to finally notice his stares, tilting his head.  
  
“...Uh...is there something on my face, my prince?”  
  
Soren scowled, glancing aside, “...when we are alone, you need not call me prince.” He spoke softly, and Ike sat up sharply. “...It’s an unnecessary formality. I have a name, and I would prefer for it to be used.”  
  
_Especially used by people other than my father._

 

Really, Zelgius and Ashnard were the only ones to call him by his name, and he hadn’t seen Zelgius in the weeks since he’d been sent away. Ike had called him Soren, but not often, and it seemed like a slip of the tongue more often than intentional intimacy.  
  
“Unless you have a problem with that, Ike?”  
  
“...Of course not, Soren. If that is your wish.”  
  
Soren felt something that might have been an ache in his chest, yet it resembled relief as well, at the sound of Ike saying his name.  
  
_Yes. That will be enough._

 

\--  
  
For the rest of the evening, Soren had seemed much happier, since Ike had agreed to call him by his name. Or as happy as Soren ever got.  
  
_I know him well enough at this point to know it doesn’t happen often._ _  
_ _  
_ It was bewildering to him why something so simple and trivial made him so pleased, but Ike was not in a position to contradict him or really wonder about it - if it made Soren happy, that was that…  
  
So often, Soren would seem to sulk back at the castle - the only thing he truly had seemed to enjoy were his flights on his wyvern, which Ike still could not understand. Other than that, he seemed so stressed all the time.  
  
_He didn’t ask to be a prince, anymore than I asked to be here._ _  
_ _  
_ He wondered if when he’d been looking at Soren in the dungeons, if both of them had really been trapped in different ways. Soren just seemed so unhappy, stuck with Daein. Than again, if his father was Ashnard, he couldn’t really blame him.  
  
The two of them ate an easily made dinner in their tent, Ike watching curiously as Soren seemed to eat so quickly, as if food was something precious to him. He himself, for once, ate slowly, as he was deep in thought.  
  
_Soren…_ _  
_ _  
_ Once Soren was done, he glanced at the tent flap before speaking up.  
  
“...Soren…? May I ask you something?”  
  
Soren looked over him, seeming surprised to see Ike being so assertive for once, before nodding, almost as if it were second nature.  
  
“...Of course, Ike. What is it?”  
  
Ike cleared his throat, again glancing at the flap, before speaking up.  
  
“...I was just wondering...why do you stay with Daein, Soren?” His voice fell, “...I already know you don’t fully agree with your father’s efforts. So why do you stay here?”  
  
Soren’s crimson eyes flashed with surprise and skepticism. He bit at his lip, glancing away, while Ike waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he persisted.  
  
“The Daein seem to think Princess Elincia doesn’t deserve her crown, but...even if that were so, she would understand your difficulties. If you wanted, I’m sure you could join with her, and overthrow your father…”  
  
He knew he was treading on unstable ground - but Soren was just so obviously unhappy with the current state of events. If something as simple and easy as Ike saying his name could make him happy when few other things did…  
  
_Something is very wrong…_

  
“...You are speaking treason, Ike.” Soren finally spoke, sitting up. “Speaking treason to a prince is a sure way to lose your head, have you not heard?”  
  
“...Not when it comes to this prince.” Ike said softly, “...if you wanted my head off, I’m sure it would be gone already, really…”  
  
He thought about the Daein soldiers on the road - how some of them had been cruel and unkind, but some had just seemed so much like normal people it was hard for Ike to view them so poorly.  
  
_Daein itself isn’t too bad for Soren, but his father definitely is. There’s no point to him serving him. Especially when his father clearly wants to be rid of him._ _  
__  
_ “You want me to run to the Princess of Crimea, my tail between my legs, and beg her for assistance in getting the Daein crown for myself?” Soren suddenly spoke up, voice surprisingly scathing. Ike blinked in surprise.  
  
“...Elincia wouldn’t demean you.” Ike blinked, confused Soren would even suggest that. He didn’t even know Elincia. “Not for coming to her for aid - “  
  
“My father slaughtered her parents, using my tactical plans, and you think she will just accept any alliance I give her? You think the Daein will not see it as a blatant betrayal and attempt for me to consolidate power?”  
  
Ike swallowed, but his eyes were firm.  
  
“You could at least _try._ If I’m there, Elincia will at least listen - “  
  
Soren’s eyes flashed so dangerously, it cut off Ike faster than his voice ever could.  
  
“I will _not_ run to the Crimean Princess like a beggar. She would not even take me even if I wanted her to. Leaving Daein in my father’s hands alone, as well, would be foolish.”  
  
“...Soren…”  
  
“...And besides that, there is not a chance Princess Elincia would listen to me.” Soren looked away, and this time instead of anger, Ike saw a brief sorrow, a deep pain, spring to life in Soren’s eyes. “Besides being Daein, I’m - “  
  
He cut himself off, than, biting his lip so hard Ike was afraid it might bleed. Ike blinked - he was…?  
  
“...Soren?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter! I’m not joining with the Crimean Princess, Ike. I know better than that. The girl would try to gain half of Daein in concessions, and I am not agreeing to such a political ploy, nor will I put myself in such a position.”  
  
Ike felt an anger rising in his chest, then, despite his worry for the other. “You promised me I could get back to my family. How else are you going to do that if not by joining with her? Do you expect me to slaughter them on the battlefield?” His eyes narrowed. “You _know_ I will do no such thing, and you’re a fool if you thought it was ever possible.”  
  
“Ike - “  
  
Ike shook his head, standing up - he wasn’t even listening!  
  
“I thought you were better than your father, Soren. Much too good for him. But if you’re going to think so pragmatically, maybe you belong here.”  
  
Ike knew he shouldn’t have said the words - but he was so furious. Why wouldn’t Soren want to join with Elincia, if he knew his father was unfit to rule? He was just enabling his advance, supporting his terror. Would it ever even end? He’d thought he could get through to Soren, he knew there was some good in his heart, genuine care and devotion to his country. But…  
  
_He’s being so selfish and narrow minded at just the suggestion!_ _  
__  
_ “...Ike…” Soren’s face had fallen with Ike’s words, and he shook his head, “I cannot betray Daein for Crimea, not even for you...these are things you don’t understand - “  
  
“I understand that your father is ruining Daein as much as he is Crimea! I understand he’s ruining you as much as them, Soren!” Ike looked at him, cold blue eyes filled with disappointment, and Soren flinched. “And what does that even mean, not even for me?”  
  
Soren was quiet, and the only noise was the rowdy chattering of the soldiers outside, thankfully drowning out their conversation to unwanted ears.  
  
“Why are you treating me so different than anyone else? From the day we met, you’ve been looking at me...with those _eyes…_ ” Ike had to look away from the gaze - it was so profoundly emotional, he couldn’t bear it. “Is it because of my father? What is it? Soren, if you expect me to serve you, you can’t hide such things from me.”  
  
Again, Soren didn’t respond, merely lacing his fingers over his knees and looking down at them with such obvious torment, that Ike almost stopped in his tirade.  
  
Almost.  
  
“...I don’t know what your issue is, Soren. But I don’t appreciate being left in the dark.” Ike turned, slightly disgusted, lifting the tent flap.  
  
“Ike - “  
  
“Unless you’re going to tell the truth, I’m not going to hear it, Soren.” Ike glared back at him, azure orbs cruel and merciless, just as much as Soren’s were pleading and desperate.  
  
“...”  
  
That silence was all Ike needed, really.  
  
“...I’m going to practice for a while. Don’t bother me.” He said in a low voice, before leaving the tent. The other soldiers looked up at him curiously as he went into the forest, but didn’t follow him. Good. Ike wanted - no, needed to be alone.  
  
_Goddess damn…!_ _  
__  
_ He pulled out his sword once he was deep in the dusk soaked woods. It was almost night, but Ike couldn’t bring himself to care. The snow would provide some light, even after the sun fully set.  
  
Furious, he slashed the trunk of a nearby tree, though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was imagining it as.  
  
_How have I come to this..?_ _  
__  
_ Serving a Daein prince, indirectly serving Ashnard. He knew at this point Daein wasn’t as evil as he’d previously thought, but still…  
  
The scraping of steel against wood, the song of his blade, drowned out most of his thoughts. Most of them.  
  
_I don’t understand Soren at all. Can’t he see this is wrong? I could see if he didn’t trust me enough to indulge plans of treason, but…_ _  
__  
_ He’d seemed firm. So honest. How was Ike supposed to react to that? But he was still evasive when regarding his true reasoning - both for having Ike here, and for distrusting Elincia…  
  
_I thought he trusted me. Enough to at least let me lead a force. But he doesn’t trust me when it comes to her? I know Elincia would hear him out...together, they could win this war. Soren could stir up a revolution in Daein against his father, while Elincia takes on the remnants of Crimea and gets aid from Begnion…_ _  
__  
_ So why wouldn’t he? Ike had already served him faithfully for nearly a moon’s turn. Was that not enough…?  
  
His anger started to fade, a little, as his blade got stuck in the trunk of the tree. Exhausted, he leaned against the hilt, forehead resting against the rough bark, turmoil bright in his blue eyes as sweat caught in his headband, breathing ragged.  
  
_...Father...am I really...doing the right thing…? I...I wish you were here, to guide me better…_ _  
__  
_ But really, if his father was alive - if he was back with Mist, and the Mercenaries, and Titania -  
  
_I would have stood up to Ashnard and died without regret. Soren...where would he be, then…? And Mist wouldn’t have a brother anymore...but at least she would have a father…_ _  
__  
_ He didn’t know what to do, even now. But taking a childish tantrum in the woods wasn’t going to help matters. He stared blankly at the bark, before pulling away, yanking out his sword and glancing at it, fire finally gone from his eyes.  
  
_I can’t falter...I have to believe in the path I’ve chosen thus far...if I run away from Soren now, everything I’ve done in service to him will just be for nothing. And I won’t get to understand him at all._ _  
__  
_ He stared at the steel of his blade. It was properly night, now - the only light was the moonlight, and the reflection of it off the soft snow on the ground. It shone off his blade, too, glittering and bright.  
  
He felt uncertain. But most of all, he felt exhausted. Like he’d been drained of all his energy just from his anger, and from hacking at a tree.  
  
_...Hah...I really can be like a child, sometimes…_ _  
__  
_ His ears perked, though, as he heard noise around him. Whether it was simply an animal or not, Ike had a warrior’s reflexes, and whirled around, sword at the ready.  
  
“Heh, you’ve got sharp reflexes, boy.”  
  
Suddenly, before even someone like him could react, there was a blade at his throat - a dagger, by the feel of it. Damn, he’d been distracted - let himself get lazy and unattentive. And being exhausted on top of that…  
  
_I didn’t think bandits would dare come so close to a Daein camp…!_ _  
__  
_ But as they spoke, Ike realized they were not bandits at all.  
  
“They’ll like that, in the fighting pits.”  
  
_The pits. They’re slavers, who want to send me to battle pits to fight for their amusement._ _  
__  
_ Ike growled, almost like an animal, whirling around quickly with his blade - before he could even slash the other, though, he felt a sharp pain, deep in his arm - a moment later, he realized an arrow had pierced it, and fell to one knee instinctively to try and recuperate, grunting.  
  
“Haha, yep. You’ve definitely got a lot of fight - but it ain’t gonna do you well anymore, boy. You shouldn’t have wandered this far from your flock.”  
  
Ike glanced around - there were four of them. One archer, one thief, one ready with a throwing spear, and another that was, as far as he could see, unarmed, but they may have had a weapon sheathed in the darkness. Ike growled, again, pain bright in his eyes but also the desire to fight, to live.  
  
“It’d be easier if you just gave up - but some of the masters like their slaves with scars, I suppose. Up to you.”  
  
Ike knew he couldn’t beat so many. But this wasn’t like with Soren - staying alive to serve Daein was one thing. He had chances to get out of it, eventually, but slavery? He would never escape such a fate. He’d simply fight for the amusement of nobles, until he died of exhaustion or battle.  
  
_...I’m sorry Mist, but I…_ _  
__  
_ He raised his blade, to the sounds of laughter.  
  
“If that’s how it’s gonna be. Too bad, than - “  
  
The slaver reached for their hip - but before they could, a blade of wind cut through the air - and through their neck. One moment, they’d been smiling smugly - a moment later, their head was in a heap at Ike’s feet. He blinked in confusion. _What?_ _  
__  
_ His gaze lifted, and he saw Soren, standing in between the trees on the way to camp, eyes cool and composed.  
  
“...Slavers. How unpleasant.” Soren’s eyes narrowed, and the slavers took one look at him, than at the corpse before them. “Surrender now, or prepare to die.”  
  
The slavers, much to Ike’s surprise, burst into laughter.  
  
“Hah! You might have gotten the drop on him, but you’re just a little boy!” The one with the spear sneered, “the three of us can take you, easily!”  
  
Soren huffed, the tome in his hands coming alive with the spirits of the wind. “Such an arrogant choice.”  
  
One of them tossed the spear at Soren - Soren easily dodged, before countering with a blast of wind that sent the other flying into a tree trunk, head first - Ike barely had to listen to the sound to know it was an instant death, blood from his fractured skull dripping down into the pure white snow, staining it further.  
  
_More then slavers deserve…_ _  
__  
_ The thief tried to get the drop on Soren, but Soren dodged that too - he was quick. Ike had experienced that first hand when he’d battled Soren. But he hadn’t thought Soren would be that fast. For a moment, the thief was face to face with Soren.  
  
“...Hah…! Not only are you a little brat, you’re Branded filth!” The man yelled, the word foreign to Ike’s ears. “This’ll be a pleasure, than - “  
  
Soren clearly knew what the word meant, and his eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated fury - the practical blades of the wind slashed over and through the man with a vengeance - when they were done, the corpse of the man didn’t even look like a corpse, so much as a hunk of meat. Blood stained Soren’s robes, and he stared down at the corpse with clear disdain and displeasure.  
  
“Disgusting.” Soren scoffed, shaking his arm to try and shake off some of the blood. Ike heard the sound of an arrow being pulled back, and quickly got to his feet, darting in front of Soren.  
  
He didn’t even think, really. But the arrow took him in the hip, barely grazing his flesh but still clearly painful. Glaring, he slashed at the archer, and that was all it took before it was all over, as quickly as it had began.  
  
_Ah...hah…_ _  
__  
_ “I-Ike?” Soren’s voice rang with worry, and he yanked the other arrow out of Ike’s arm. “...Goddess. We must get you healed - “  
  
He cut himself off, suddenly, seeming to realize something.  
  
“...You took that blow for me.” He murmured. “...You...you did not need to do that, Ike…”  
  
Ike hadn’t even really thought about it. He’d just done it, on instinct. Protected Soren. He stared at Soren a moment, blood staining his hair and mixing with sweat.  
  
“...I’m sworn to protect you, aren’t I?” He said quietly, “...Soren.”  
  
Soren stared another moment, before biting his lip, tugging at Ike’s good arm.  
  
“...Come. We need to get you healed.”  
  
Ike was silent, watching Soren as expressions of guilt and torment flickered through his gaze. Again, he wondered desperately why that was, why he couldn't just reach through to him and pull that darkness out...  
  
Slowly, he nodded, words not being enough to convey the feelings he wanted to say. Maybe he was too tired. Or perhaps it was just because of his stoic nature.  
  
Words, really, would not be enough...not now. It troubled him. But it was the way it was. Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ike: Ike's inner monologue, thought processes, and internal debates are honestly extremely fun and interesting to write. I think he definitely thinks about things a lot more then people give him credit for, both in game and by the fandom. He's definitely very emotionally driven, however, which is a nice contrast to Soren who is far more logically driven, except when it comes to his core motivation in life. Thus, I think there would certainly be moments where they would argue and disagree, despite Soren's often passive nature and how deferential he usually is to Ike.
> 
> Conflict: Of course, both Ike and Soren have good points in this argument - or at least, I tried to portray it as a fair argument on both sides. So I hope it comes off that way, because it's just not easy for Soren to try and mount a resistance against his father given his parentage, and he's obviously making it impossible for Ike to understand by omitting that core point. I do hope it was effective and didn't come off as out of character for either of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I got the idea for this story from thinking about both how fascinated I am by Prince Soren AUs, but also how critically important Soren's meeting with Ike really is, and how taking that away really changes the character he is - so I decided to mix the two. I thought about doing an AU where Gawain stayed with Ashnard, for some reason, and Ike was raised alongside Soren in Daein, but I thought that might change their dynamic to something I didn't want. So I opted to go for more a mix of canon and AU instead - Soren and Ike meeting, but that leading to Soren being taken to Daein. As to why Ashnard didn't just toss him out, perhaps that's hard to believe or swallow, Soren had been trained at this point in magic extensively, and I think he could have proved worth to Ashnard at that point, moreso then when he was a baby.
> 
> Zelgius: Zelgius is one of my favourite characters in Fire Emblem, and I've always found the idea of his possible relationship with Soren in an AU like this fascinating - I really like the idea that he would feel a bit of sympathy towards him, because Soren is a young, abused Branded child. I also like the idea that, as a child, Soren also latched onto Zelgius a little, as a sort of stabilizing force, and I like possible conflict that could cause with Ike on Soren's part, and perhaps giving Zelgius more attachments outside of Sephiran and maybe causing conflict there as well. Perhaps that's a bit of a stretch or projecting, but I really do like the idea, so I'm sticking with it - again, I warned this fic was very self indulgant. If you don't like Zelgius, though, don't worry - he won't be a major, or super big part of the story.


End file.
